


The Long Road Home

by MamaFrick (MissForeverRebel)



Series: Brothers of Oath [3]
Category: Backstreet Boys
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, F/M, Family Drama, Healing, Romance, coming to terms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:29:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 38,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28716546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissForeverRebel/pseuds/MamaFrick
Summary: It's been a year since his world fell apart around him and Brian is still trying to pick up the broken pieces for him and Baylee. It's easy to forgive, but it's harder to forget, and even more impossible when you have to learn to forgive yourself.
Relationships: Brian Littrell/Original Female Character, Kevin Richardson/Kristin Richardson
Series: Brothers of Oath [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2105160
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ||Sequel to Brothers of Oath||

**Chapter One**

  
  


_ “Leigh…” The name left Brian’s mouth in a breathy whisper as he allowed his surprised gaze to fixate on the view of his wife. She stood with her back to him, her gorgeous platinum blonde hair cascading over her shoulders so flawlessly. Simply radiating, Brian thought to himself with a soft smile of adoration. God, how he loved Leighanne something fierce, everything about her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, her personality to the love and dedication for her family. There was no doubt in Brian’s mind that he was the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet to have been blessed by being able to have Leighanne’s hand in marriage. They weren’t perfect, but they had each other and that made life worth facing. _

_ Brian took a step forward into the master bedroom he and Leighanne shared, approaching her cautiously so he didn’t startle her. When Brian reached his wife, he protectively wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder and inhaling a deep breath of her familiar scent. The mixture of Leighanne’s floral shampoo and her favorite perfume warmed Brian on the inside, enough that he tightened his arms to take more of her in. “Have I told you lately just how much I love you?” he murmured thoughtfully. _

_ “How can you say that?” Leighanne’s voice quivered in response. She neither moved or really even reacted to Brian’s embrace. Instead, she stood there stiffly, her tone odd and distant, cold and almost...lifeless. _

_ Brian frowned to himself as Leighanne posed her question...or was it more of an accusation? He wasn’t really sure, nor did it make any bit of sense. He supposed Leighanne must have misheard what he had said. “What kinda question is that?” Brian asked with a chuckle as he flexed his arms around his wife’s midsection, hoping to convey just how much he truly enjoyed what it felt like to hold her. _

_ “...You don’t love me,” Leighanne sighed dismissively and gently unhooked Brian’s arms from her. She didn’t look at him as she stepped around Brian to move over towards the large bay window across the room, abandoning their half made bed. He couldn’t see her face either with the way her hair draped the sides of her face, obscuring a direct view. “You never loved me, Brian.” _

_ “What?” Brian blinked in confusion as he turned in place to face where Leighanne had come to stop, her back still too him, her posture stiff as she hugged her arms to her body. He moved to take a step towards her, but it seemed his feet failed to receive the signal from his brain and Brian remained firmly rooted in spot. “How can you say something like that, Leigh? Of course I love you. I’ve  _ **_always_ ** _ loved you.” _

_ “You’re lying,” Leighanne told him simply, faintly shaking her head. The movement was barely noticeable, but Brian could see it right away. Not only did she sound odd, distant, cold and almost lifeless, Leighanne sounded sad with anger that was steadily mounting. The longer Brian watched her, the more he was able to clearly see that she had begun to tremble as she wrapped her arms around herself, as if crying silently so he wouldn’t hear her. “...Why are you lying to me?” _

_ Brian’s forehead creased and he shook his head, releasing a quiet nervous chuckle. “Leigh, with all due respect...what are you going on about?” he questioned, unsure of what to make of the words that had just come out of her mouth. “I’m not  _ **_lying_ ** _ to you,” he tried to assure her and finally got his feet to begin moving, although they felt sluggish and delayed. “You know just how much I love you. I mean...maybe I haven’t said it enough lately, but...that doesn’t change the fact of the matter that you’re the most important thing in my life.” _

_ “You’re lying!” Leighanne repeated shrilly in return. Her voice rose in volume so quickly, that it echoed around the room quite peculiarly and caused Brian to reel backwards a bit. “I hate when you lie to me! Why can’t you just tell me the truth?!” _

_ “What the Hell are you even talking about?” Brian snapped in return and instantly regretted how hateful he had just allowed his voice to sound. He watched as Leighanne’s posture stiffened further and then eerily slow, she turned her head to the side just enough that he was finally able to catch a partially obscured view of her side profile. Swallowing a sigh, Brian took another step towards her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap the way I just did,” he mustered and when he reached Leighanne again, he placed his hands on her shoulders and began to massage them gently, hoping to get her to relax. “I just don’t understand what you’re so upset about right now. I thought we were over this already…” _

_ Leighanne sniffled audibly and then whispered, “We’ll  _ **_never_ ** _ be over this, Brian.” _

_ Brian stilled his hands against Leighanne’s shoulders, feeling the ache of regret growing in his stomach. “Don’t say that. That’s not true. We can get past this.” _

_ “No,” Leighanne said forlornly. She inhaled deeply and turned to face Brian, eyes sunken in, her normally radiant skin ashen gray and rotting, unhealed lacerations oozing crimson. “You weren’t there.” _

_ Brian stumbled backwards in shock as his heart began to race in his chest. “Leigh-” _

_ “You weren’t there!” Leighanne screamed in the midst of a sob. “You weren’t there when I needed you! Why weren’t you there?!” _

_ Horrified and panicked didn’t feel adequate enough to explain how Brian felt in that moment and when he lost his footing and hit the floor hard, it felt as if the breath had been knocked from his chest. His lungs were tightening and he was almost certain his heart was about to burst from behind his rib cage. Leighanne was stumbling towards him, accusing Brian as much with her stare as she was with the words that came out of her mouth. “Stop, j-just stop-” Brian tried to speak, but his voice caught in his throat.  _ __  
  


_ “ _ **_Look what you did to me!_ ** _ ” Leighanne screamed again before she suddenly dropped to her knees and then collapsed sideways on the floor. _

_ Brian didn’t even hesitate scrambling to reach his wife and when he did, he pulled Leighanne’s cold stiff body up into his arms, cradling her as the tears started to slide down his cheeks. He watched as her skin practically disintegrated right before his eyes and when he tried combing his fingers through her matted hair, it came away in thick clumps. “ _ **_Leigh_ ** _!” _

_ “Bravo, brother. You sure loved her, alright.” _

_ Brian was barely able to see through his tears, but there was no mistaking the sarcasm dripping from the familiar voice that appeared out of nowhere and no ignoring the slow methodical clapping that accompanied it. He gasped for breath as the sobs continued to roll off his chest and when he refocused his gaze on Leighanne, he watched in horror as her rotting body turned first to bones and finally to dust before disappearing completely. “ _ **_No!_ ** _ No no no!” _

_ “You’re so fucking pathetic,” Nick taunted him with a chuckle as he came into view, materializing out of the shadows. His face mocked Brian and he drew in close, mouth curling into a devilish smirk. “Seriously, after all this time, you are still so fucking pathetic. Can’t even be honest with yourself.” _

_ Brian abruptly lunged at Nick, tackling him to the floor as Nick cackled wildly, almost as if he were possessed. “This is all  _ **_your_ ** _ fault!” he howled just as he pummeled his fist into Nick’s face, though oddly enough, it seemed to have little effect. Over and over, Brian sent his fist slamming into Nick’s head and his brother only laughed harder, amused by Brian’s efforts that caused none of the damage that was intended. “ _ **_You killed my wife_ ** _!!!” _

_ Nick’s laughter ceased and he smirked up at Brian. “And you killed your own brother,” he responded. “Which is the lesser evil?” _

_ Brian heard the cocking of a gun before he felt the tip of the barrel pressing against his chest just over his heart. Nick was still smirking, his eyes darkening with intent to finish the job he set out to do. Brian shook his head and opened his mouth to speak just as Nick’s finger squeezed against the trigger and the bullet rang out- _

Brian bolted upright in the bed with a yelp of distress, hands clawing at his chest as he gasped for breath. His heart was actually hammering so hard and he found it so difficult to catch his breath, that it actually made his chest ache and his lungs burn in protest. The attack felt as if it lasted several minutes when in reality it was only a few brief moments, and by the time Brian managed to calm himself and stop thrashing, he had managed to successfully tangle himself in the blankets on the bed.

Grimacing, Brian struggled for a moment more to free himself from the mess and then sat there with his head in his hands, willing his breathing to even out as well.  _ In and out...come on, Brian… _ Except, he found it incredibly difficult to shake off the lingering effects of the nightmare, the one that had become so common over the past year that Brian had resigned to expecting it nightly.

“Fuck…” he grumbled and swallowed thickly to realize his mouth felt like it was coated with sandpaper. Reaching blindly through the dark, Brian located the glass of water he had placed on the nightstand before climbing into bed and swallowed a slow careful sip, appreciating the way it coated his throat. It may have been room temperature after sitting out for several hours, but it was still soothing nonetheless.

The air around Brian was hot and stifling and a clear indication for the reason why his tshirt stuck to him, soaked through with sweat. Looking up towards the vent in the ceiling, Brian realized he didn’t hear anything coming from it and the shotty ceiling fan did little to circulate the humid air.

The damn air conditioning unit had quit functioning… **_again_ ** . For the second time that month.

Brian cursed under his breath as he set the glass of water down on the nightstand and made a mental note to call the landlord first thing in the morning as he pulled his soiled shirt up and over his head. Of all the places he could have chosen and he just  **_happened_ ** to choose the one with the crappy air conditioning that would decide to sleep on the job in the middle of one of the hottest Kentucky summers Brian was able to recall.

And not just once, but twice...all in the same month.

His mother had insisted Brian and Baylee move in with them because, Hell, Baylee practically lived there most of the time anyway, but Brian said he needed his own space and something simplified. Something to start over with as he tried to get his life put back together. Apparently that had translated into the barely big enough two bedroom, one bathroom second floor apartment that had become known as the sorry excuse for his and Baylee’s new home...or rather Brian’s own little personal prison. It’s not like he went out often anyway, and when he did, it was just a quick trip to the grocery store or across Lexington to his parents house nightly for dinner.

Sure, Brian could afford a Hell of a lot better, but the problem was...he just didn’t give a damn. He supposed that was one of the perks when life stopped making sense the way it had for a year now. It was kind of hard to care when half the time it felt as if he was barely keeping his head above water and the other half he was lucky if he even managed to make it out of bed. No wonder Baylee spent most of his time at his grandparents house.

Brian had all but checked out of his role as Baylee’s parent.

Sighing, Brian reached for the glass of water again, only to jump in surprise when his phone lit up and began to ring. He stared in dismay as the glass tipped over, spilling the remaining contents, and scrambled out of the bed to find something to clean the mess up with. “For fuck’s sake,” Brian growled under his breath, snatching his shirt off the floor and bringing his phone to his ear. “ **_What_ ** ?!”

“Rise and shine, Princess,” Kevin’s voice greeted him on the other end of the line, but Brian immediately took note of the fact that his cousin sounded everything but cheery and in fact Brian could go as far as to say he sounded just like he, himself, felt. “If you’re grumpy now, I’m about to make it a lot worse.”

Brian frowned and briefly pulled the phone away from his ear to check the time. Two thirty seven in the morning. “It’s just after two thirty in the morning, Kev. Why the Hell are you calling me at this hour?” he stiffly questioned as he mopped the spilled water up from the nightstand.

Kevin released a hard sigh. “Trust me, I know what time it is,” he responded with a patience that was fleeting. “The question you should be asking yourself right now is where is Baylee?”

For a moment, Brian paused with a scowl, only to toss the sopping wet shirt into the hamper before answering. “Bay’s asleep in his bed,” he said, but his feet were already knowingly carrying him out of the room and across the hall to the closed door of his teenage son’s bedroom as the words were leaving his mouth. Brian gripped the handle and pushed the door open, feeling the familiar irritation course through him when he saw the bed empty and no sign of Baylee anywhere. “...What’d he do this time?”

“Just get down to Fayette County Detention,” Kevin answered him with another sigh. “We’ll talk when you get here.”

The call disconnected before Brian could formulate a response and without thinking about what he was doing, he slammed the door to Baylee’s room shut  and ran his hand over his face. Within minutes, Brian had slipped on a clean pair of jeans and tshirt and after haphazardly stepping into his shoes, he snatched his keys off the hook on the wall just to the right of the front door and hurried out of the apartment.

Brian barely registered the fact that it was cooler outside than it had been inside the apartment, though not by much, and he welcomed the blast of cold air the moment he shoved the key into the ignition of the Land Cruiser and revved the engine. The drive to Fayette County Detention passed by in a blur, mostly for the fact that it wasn’t the first time Brian had been called to come and fetch his son. Only, it  **_was_ ** the first time the call had come in the middle of the night.

What the Hell had gotten into Baylee that had caused the teen’s behavior to take a turn down the wrong path, Brian wasn’t entirely sure. But the summer hadn’t been kind to either of them and as it was steadily coming to a close, it seemed Baylee was determined to do anything and everything he  **_wasn’t_ ** supposed to do, in the company of people Brian never would have expected his son to spend time around.

At least not in the past.

Bringing the car to a stop outside the Fayette County Correction Center a short time later, Brian sat there in hesitation for a moment as he stared out at the building. The parking lot was all but empty, which made sense for the hour, but it didn’t take him long to notice his cousin’s large SUV parked nearby. Kevin being called in never meant good news...then again never did the idea of his son actually getting arrested for the third time that summer.

Brian forced himself out of the vehicle and made his way inside without further hesitation. Kevin stood from where he was sitting in the empty lobby and quickly approached him, although Brian found it difficult to gauge his cousin’s mood at that moment.

“How bad is it this time?” Brian asked without affording a moment for a proper greeting.

Kevin’s expression turned grim and Brian watched as the impatience returned to his eyes. “It’s not  **_good_ ** ,” he gruffed in return and crossed his arms over his chest. Brian sank a bit under the weight of his stare. “I was able to negotiate him out of being sent to Juvenile Detention prior to appearing before the judge, but I gotta be honest with you...I was  **_barely_ ** able to negotiate it this time. This is the third strike to his name this summer, Brian. Most judges would have sent Baylee to Juvenile Detention after the second stunt he pulled and it was a goddamn miracle I was able to get him out of it  **_that_ ** time.”

Brian dug the palms of his hands against his eyes as he listened to his cousin speak. When he finally lowered them again, he squared his shoulders and steeled his expression in preparation of having his next questions answered. “What is Baylee being charged with and what kinda time is he looking at?”

Kevin pursed his lips and for a moment, his expression softening as if he were taking pity on Brian. He lowered his voice when he spoke up again. “Damage to city property...a stone wall downtown that he and two of his friends decided to vandalize,” Kevin explained. “He said he was just there, didn’t partake in the actual act of vandalism, but…” Kevin exhaled a breath through his nose and tightened his arms over his chest. “...Brian, even if that’s true...with the fact that Baylee has already been in trouble  **_twice_ ** this summer, it’s gonna be damn near impossible to convince a judge not to send him to Juvenile Detention. If that happens...he’s looking at a year minimum at Fayette County Juvenile Detention Center, regardless of whether or not he physically caused the damage to city property. Not to mention, he’ll be ordered to pay restitution to the city on top of any and all fines assessed by the court.”

“Lets just rip the bandaid off without anesthesia while we’re at it,” Brian grimaced, feeling his stomach twist with nausea. He paced away from Kevin in disbelief, unwilling to let his cousin see the shame that passed over his face. Not to mention the fact that since Kevin was there before him, it meant Baylee had opted to call Kevin instead of his own father and that was enough of a blow to the already fractured relationship between father and son. Then again, with Kevin being one of the most prominent attorneys in the city of Lexington, he also couldn’t help but feel a little thankful that Baylee had at least had enough sense in him to know he was going to need legal representation...again...for the third fucking time that summer…

Kevin approached him from behind and placed a firm understanding hand on Brian’s shoulder. “Listen, I know it’s not what you want to hear and I wish I had better news to give you,” he said, “But Baylee really fucked up this time and...I mean, I’m gonna do whatever I can to soften the blow, but you need to be prepared for the fact that Baylee may be facing actual time in detainment.”

Brian cleared his throat and nodded to signal his understanding, then turned back around to face his cousin just as a door across the lobby opened and they watched as Baylee was escorted out by a uniformed police officer. The teen’s eyes immediately widened in disbelief when he took notice of the fact that Brian was there as well.

“You called  **_him_ ** ?” Baylee huffed in annoyance and tried to stop walking, but the officer nudged him forward. “I told you to call Papa!”

“We already talked about this, Bay.” Kevin turned to him, his firm expression shutting the teen up real quick when he reached the pair. “Your dad is your legal guardian. It was either be released to him or spend the next few nights in Juvenile Detention. Your grandparents don’t have any jurisdiction over this matter and frankly speaking, neither does your dad. You’re lucky I was able to get you released to  **_him_ ** . So, I suggest you be a little more grateful. You’re in deep water as it is.”

“What in God’s name were you  **_thinking_ ** ?” Brian snapped at the teen once the officer had departed the lobby. “Sneaking out again, running around with  **_those_ ** idiots, damaging city property? For fuck’s sake, Baylee, I taught you better than this!”

“I’m not the one who did it!” Baylee snapped at him in return. “Jesus, why do  **_you_ ** even care?! Just leave me the Hell alone!”

Brian watched, speechless, as Baylee turned and stormed across the lobby, muttering something about going out to wait by the car. “That’s not my son…” he muttered distractedly.

“You and I both know that,” Kevin shrugged. “But it seems  **_he’s_ ** forgotten. Get him home, cuz. Whether that’s to Aunt Jackie and Uncle Harold’s or to your place, at this point it doesn’t really matter. He needs to stay out of trouble before he appears in court, otherwise, I won’t be able to intervene again.”

Sighing harshly, Brian quietly thanked his cousin and left the lobby to step outside again. Baylee’s eyes briefly met his from where he was standing almost timidly at the passenger side of the Land Cruiser, but Brian looked away as he dug the keys out of his pocket. “Just get in the damn car,” he muttered and climbed in as well without another word.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

  
  


“What do you mean it’s gonna be three days before it can be fixed?!”

As if the day hadn’t already gone to Hell in a handbasket before it even got started, the circumstances had just become substantially worse and all things considered, Brian felt it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if the ground beneath his feet suddenly opened up and swallowed him whole. At least give him a break and put him out of his damn misery. But, considering Brian and luck weren’t exactly on speaking terms, he didn’t see that happening any time soon. His patience wasn’t just fleeting by that point...it was practically non-existent and from his vantage point, the foreseeable future wasn’t any more encouraging.

Brian couldn’t have swallowed his sigh of frustration even if he had wanted to. Instead, he continued to pace the floor of the kitchen at his parents’ house and he’d be damned if he wasn’t ready to explode as he kept his phone pressed against his ear. “It’s the middle of summer, Chuck!” Brian snapped as he ran his other hand through his hair in an act of exasperation. “You can’t expect me to go without- Seriously, get a motel room? Are you gonna pay for that motel room?” He scowled at the sound of the chuckle of amusement from the other end of the line and his eyes turned even more furious with the response given. “Just get the damn thing fixed!”

Jackie glanced at her son from where she stood at the kitchen sink, washing the last of the dishes from that morning’s breakfast. “You keep pacing like that and you’re bound to wear a hole in the floor,” she mentioned dryly. “Sit down.”

“Whose side are you even on?” Brian returned with a hard frown before hastily abandoning his phone on the small kitchen table and taking a seat. He shoved the device away from himself, propped his elbows on the surface of the table and placed his head in his hands. Granted, as the seconds passed and his mother remained silent, Brian began to feel a little guilty for how he had just spoken to her. He didn’t need to look up and see her stare of disapproval to know it was there; he could feel the weight of it damn near burning a hole in his back. “I’m sorry...I shouldn’t be taking this out on you. It’s just the last thing I really need right now.”

Finishing what she was doing, Jackie set the dish towel on the counter and turned to the tea kettle that she had left heating on one of the stove top burners. “Nobody is blaming you for being frustrated,” she mentioned as she set about preparing them both a cup of tea. The scents of lavender and honey filtered through the air as Jackie finished the task and carried both cups over to join her son at the table. She settled herself into the seat across from him before speaking again. “Lord knows you have far more on your plate right now than you know what to do with.”

The creases of stress in Brian’s forehead became more pronounced as he grudgingly took the cup of tea that was offered to him. “Are you even capable of getting mad at me anymore?” he questioned his mother pointedly.

“You’re upset that I’m not lecturing you as if you were a child?” Jackie mused and watched as the heat flooded Brian’s cheeks. But she could see far deeper than what was visible on the surface and knew the tremendous weight that was resting upon her son’s shoulders. It had been building for quite some time and when Brian and Baylee had shown up unexpectedly on her doorstep just after three thirty that morning, all it took was one look in her son’s eyes to know and understand that he was on the verge of reaching his breaking point. “Sweetheart, most would consider that a blessing…”

Brian dug his fingers against his scalp momentarily, then inhaled a slow deep breath to calm himself. “It’s fine...I’ll be fine,” he muttered. Only, Brian knew he wasn’t fine by any standards. Nowhere near it, actually, and there was no hiding that fact from Jackie. After a few minutes passed by where neither of them spoke, Brian managed to lift his head from his hands and stare wearily down at his cup of tea. “ I dunno, Mom…” he murmured with a tight shake of his head. “My mind is so full of thoughts right now that I can’t process, I just...don’t even know about anything anymore.”

Jackie shifted in her seat, studying him carefully. When had he begun to appear so tired and worn down, a mere shell of the already broken man who had returned home to Kentucky after the unexpected loss of his wife a year prior? If Jackie had feared for Brian’s wellbeing in the immediate aftermath of that devastating blow, it was nothing compared to the concern she felt now. “Brian…” she drawled quietly and carefully reached across the table to rest her hand upon his, but when he flinched and withdrew from her, the surprise flashed within the concern of her gaze. Jackie retracted her hand. “Talk to me…”

“About what?” Brian sighed as he lifted a hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose. His head was pounding from the lack of adequate sleep; Brian hadn’t been able to settle his mind enough to relax and rest a few hours more once they’d arrived at his parents house. Instead, Brian had spent the time while the rest of the house was silent, pacing the living room until well past the point in time that the sun had risen above the horizon and his mother had entered the kitchen to cook breakfast for everyone...a breakfast Baylee couldn’t bother himself to get out of bed long enough to join them for. He scowled at the thought.

“At this point?” Jackie countered with a soft sigh as she lifted the tea cup to her lips for a small sip. “Anything is better than nothing. Your silence is really starting to worry your father and I. This past year hasn’t been kind to you; we’re all aware of that, but you’ve still been pushing everyone away, instead of letting us help you the way you need to be helped.”

Brian brought his gaze back to his mother with a hard frown. “I don’t know  **_what_ ** you and Dad are expecting from me,” he hissed at her before he could stop himself. Wetting his lips, Brian exhaled a harsh breath through his nose. “Obviously, whatever it is, I can’t do it. You guys and Baylee make that perfectly clear every damn day. But I’m doing my best, Mom. If that’s not fucking good enough for you, then I don’t know  **_what_ ** is.”

Jackie stared back at him, a bit aghast and stung by his sharp tone. “For starters, your choice of language is very unbecoming,” she told him with a dismissive frown of disapproval. “I don’t care how old you are or what’s going on to make you act this way, but you talk to me with some respect, Brian Thomas. I am  **_not_ ** the enemy here.”

Brian returned his head to his hands, his stomach twisting with nausea from the breakfast he had forced himself to eat. “No, you’re right, I’m sorry,” he mumbled in response and it took all he had just to get his voice to project enough so his mother could hear him. A small chuckle of irony passed his lips after a moment. “Guess you  **_can_ ** still get mad at me, after all.”

“I love you, but I will always give you a swift kick to your behind when you deserve it,” Jackie said, her expression softening. She swallowed another sip of her tea. “Your family cares about you, Brian. And after everything that has happened, everyone is extra concerned. What you went through...the losses you experienced-”

“You and Dad lost Nick, too,” Brian interrupted her.

Jackie faltered, the emotional pain flashing momentarily on her face as she looked down at the cup grasped in her hands. “I’m not just talking about your brother…” she murmured.

Brian regretted saying what he had when he saw the turmoil in his mother’s eyes. Even after a year, Jackie and Harold had said very little in regards to the death of their youngest son. Brian knew it was an extremely painful subject for them, especially considering the fact that he still hadn’t told them the truth about the circumstances surrounding the night Nick had died. He had no intentions of telling them the details either.

There was no way to soften that blow and keep it from crushing them in the way it had already and still was crushing Brian. It was his secret to live with. As far as Harold and Jackie knew, Nick’s death had been an accident, something that could have been prevented if he hadn’t been with Brian that night. An ambush at Nick’s house is what Brian had called it, when he had gone over to his brother’s to request his help with something. He’d even gone so far as to deepen the believability of the lie by telling his parents that Nick was considered to have died in the line of duty, despite having already lost his position at the precinct. And when AJ, Howie, the Captain, and the Chief all corroborated the story at Brian’s request, his parents didn’t even think to question it. Nick had been redeemed in their eyes, dying a hero’s death trying to save Brian and that partially made up for the fact that Nick’s remains hadn’t been salvageable from the fire.

It didn’t matter to Brian that he lost sleep at night because of the nightmares and the fact that  **_he_ ** knew the truth of what really happened. What mattered to him was how the truth would affect his parents.

Brian slouched back in the chair and rubbed his hands over his face. “All I’m saying is that I’m not the only one in this family who suffered a loss,” he offered in return, his stomach still turning with regret. “I can’t and I won’t ignore the fact that you and Dad are hurting because of Nick’s death. Or Harry as well. And none of  **_you_ ** seem willing to talk about it either. So...you can’t sit there and say I’m pushing everyone away when you’re just as guilty of doing the same.”

“You’re right,” Jackie conceded with a nod. “Our whole family has experienced a world of hurt over the past year and is in need of healing. It takes time, though,” she said and extended her hand back across the table, waiting patiently for him to take it. When Brian hesitantly placed his hand in hers, Jackie offered him a soft smile. “Time where we should all be drawing closer together to get through this. Perhaps your father and I should have been more open with you about how we are coping with the loss of your brother. We’ve just been so caught up in our concern for yours and Baylee’s wellbeing.”

Brian had to clear his throat to keep his emotions in check when she squeezed his hand supportively. “Mama, I don’t know what to do with Baylee anymore,” he mustered, tilting his chin towards his chest in an attempt to shield Jackie from seeing his expression of shame. Brian knew it was a pointless effort though, because his mother would be able to tell from just the strain in his voice regardless of whether she could see his face or not. “I honest to God am at a complete loss on how to get through to him and get him to understand that what he’s doing is going to eventually destroy his future if he continues on this path and doesn’t start making better choices.”

“A troubled mind is hard to get through to,” Jackie told her son. “Baylee is just as lost in this world right now as you are.”

“I feel like I’m  **_failing_ ** him, though,” Brian’s voice shook a little as he said the words. He didn’t realize just how powerful they were until he’d said them out loud. “He won’t talk to me. He barely looks at me and the vast majority of the time when he does, he acts like he hates me. He’s not the same Baylee that-”

Jackie squeezed Brian’s hand again in an effort to draw his gaze back to hers. “Of course he’s not the same Baylee,” she countered before he could finish his statement. “What he went through...what you  **_both_ ** have been through...it changes you. That’s what loss does to a person. That doesn’t mean that Baylee hates you though.”

Brian looked at his mother a little desperately, his resolve cracking further under the pressure. “He was angry that Kev called  **_me_ ** this morning to pick him up from Fayette County. He didn’t speak to me the entire way here.” Pulling his hand free, Brian rose to his feet to pace away from the table, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I just don’t get it...what I’ve done so wrong that my own son hates me. For Christ’s sake, Baylee looks at me like I disgust him and there’s always so much bitterness in his voice whenever he  **_does_ ** speak to me. It’s like...it’s like he blames me for the death of his mother.”

“Surely you realize how ridiculous that sounds.” Jackie remained seated, watching him. “That doesn’t change the fact that you are  **_still_ ** his father and the only way you will ever get through this is together. The last thing your son needs is for you to give up on him right now. I’m not saying his behavior is acceptable. If anything, whether he realizes it or not, Baylee needs you to fight harder for him.”

Brian rubbed at the dulling ache in his forehead as he leaned back against the edge of the counter. “I can’t help Baylee if he won’t let me,” he muttered. “Kev doesn’t even know if  **_he_ ** can help him this time and keep him from facing confinement in juvenile detention. How the Hell am I supposed to cope with the thought of that, huh? That my son could very possibly be going away and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it? Am I really  **_that shitty_ ** of a father that Baylee can’t even-”

Jackie was already on her feet and pulling him into her embrace before Brian’s voice cut out and the first of a steady stream of tears began to slide down his cheeks. She held him tightly, hand caressing his back to calm him. “You are exhausted right now, my son,” Jackie soothed him as he slumped against her. “You are expecting far too much of yourself. We don’t know yet what could happen to Baylee, but we will get through it together as it happens. And you know as well as I do that Kevin will do whatever he can. You have to trust in that and trust that whatever happens is for the best. But for now-” Jackie pulled back from Brian, holding him at arm’s length. “You need to rest. Kevin will be by later this afternoon to speak with us. In the meantime, I want you to march yourself upstairs to the other guest room. I know you haven’t slept since you’ve been here. Get some rest before you make yourself sick again.”

_ ‘Every time I close my eyes, everything happens all over again…’  _ Brian wanted to tell her, but he kept the thought to himself. Instead, he looked away from her with a small nod. “Yeah, okay...I’ll do that,” he mumbled. Brian rubbed at his forehead again as he stepped around his mother to head towards the kitchen doorway, but he stopped before he could reach it. “Maybe Baylee should just stay here for a while with you and Dad. He practically already does most of the time anyway. Maybe...he would be happier.”

Brian left the kitchen before his mother could respond and let his depression clouded exhaustion carry him up the stairs to the guest room. He was honestly beginning to believe that Baylee didn’t need him after all…

  
  


◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️

  
  


Grimacing in irritation, Baylee reached down to rub at the painful ache in his left leg. These days, the pain had a habit of radiating the entire length of his leg, from where the metal plate had been placed to repair the damage done to his tibia during the accident he was involved in a year prior, down to the tips of his toes, and back up to the point in his pelvic bone where the screws had been inserted to correct that injury as well. He kept it to himself though, especially when the pain became particularly bad. Those were the times Baylee kept to himself in his bedroom at his grandparents’ house or in the tiny bedroom when God forbid the few times he was expected to be “home” at his father’s shitty little apartment. Although, having to be  **_there_ ** was the kind of inconvenience that left Baylee annoyed and bitter…

...Almost as much as the pain did.

His father’s apartment was that  **_last_ ** place Baylee wanted to be, had been that way since he was forced to leave the only home he had ever known and move to Kentucky where he knew nothing and noone outside of his family, but of course nobody understood that. Just like they didn’t understand the fact that he couldn’t even look at his father without feeling physically ill. Granted, Baylee had spent the first couple months in Lexington at that piece of shit rehabilitation center his father had paid a pretty penny to put him in. It wasn’t the  **_worst_ ** experience by any means, but by the time it was all said and done, Baylee hated pretty much everyone he crossed paths with.

Being stuck in the rehabilitation center re-learning even some of the most basic tasks had proved to be more lonely than Baylee could have anticipated and it’s not like he’d had a choice in the matter. His grandparents were with him daily, his Uncle Harry visited when he could, and even cousin Kevin and his family had visited a couple of times. But Baylee’s father had become so distant that it started to feel like he was nothing more than an absent memory. Of all the people that  **_should have_ ** supported Baylee the most while he was recovering and the majority of the time Baylee wondered if he even gave a damn anymore.

It was how Baylee learned that his father hated him and he was determined to hate him in return.

Baylee grimaced again and pushed himself up onto his feet from where he had been sitting on the edge of his bed, taking a moment to assure he was steady and not about to topple over before he made his way over to the window across the room.

Getting back on his feet again after the accident had proven a rough and bumpy road that still gave Baylee the occasional bouts of trouble, not to mention that he still walked with a slightly noticeable limp even after a year. His care team at the rehabilitation center had warned him that it was a possibility he would experience discomfort to some degree for the rest of his life because of the severity of his injuries.  _ “But you’re alive,” _ they’d said,  _ “And that’s something to be thankful for.” _ No, what Baylee was thankful for was every time they finally shut up and left him alone in the company of the thoughts that consistently haunted him daily. Misery loves company and Baylee clung to the thoughts as if his life depended on it.

Nobody understood it. Nobody  **_could_ ** understand everything Baylee thought and felt and he wished they would stop acting like they did, because the one person he needed the most to reassure him, far more than the devotion his grandparents had for him, was something he was denied. A most basic right and his father couldn’t bother himself to care. Baylee had never felt so alone in the world.

His father could go to Hell for all he cared, though. At least he had his grandparents to rely on and  **_that_ ** was something Baylee was thankful for. They went out of their way to make sure he was provided for during his recovery and when he had begged them to let him move in with them after he was released from the rehabilitation center, they had compromised by turning one of the guest rooms into a suitable bedroom for whenever Baylee stayed over, which was more often than not. If he could avoid going to his father’s, then Baylee found a way to accomplish it. In fact, he considered their house to be his actual home...well, as much of a home as Baylee could get currently.

Home was back where Baylee used to live, back where his mother was still alive and well and happy and not dead because of him, back where his father still cared about him. Baylee wished like Hell he could go back to that point in time. He missed the familiarity of their house and his bedroom, he missed his girlfriend Sophie even though he hadn’t talked to her in months, he missed his school and his friends, but most of all Baylee missed how it felt when life was normal and still made sense.

That life Baylee so desperately craved was long gone behind him now and he wasn’t so sure life would ever make sense or feel normal again.

Bracing a hand against the glass of the window, Baylee stared out with a gaze of determination. The house had been quiet for quite some time, not that he had made any effort to socialize with his grandparents, and he sure as Hell was avoiding crossing paths with his father at all costs, enough that Baylee had only left his room once to quickly duck into the bathroom to use the toilet. The majority of his day had been spent trying to sleep his worries away or pacing the floor as he considered the hot water he had landed himself in. Baylee wasn’t an idiot...he knew he had really screwed up this time. Kevin had made sure to tell him that plenty when he arrived, but Baylee already knew it. He didn’t need an old man with an oversized ego trying to drill it into his head.

Still...Baylee couldn’t believe his older cousin had  **_actually_ ** called his father to come pick him up, after he adamantly insisted Kevin get a hold of Harold. His grandfather would be pissed, sure, but at least Baylee was able to trust that he wouldn’t turn his back on him. His father, on the other hand, only looked at him with disgust and disappointment. Baylee had even tried to open his mouth and say he was sorry multiple times during the tension filled drive to his grandparents’ house, but why bother? It’s not like it would make a difference.

“Asshole,” Baylee muttered under his breath, but even as he said it, it made him feel sick to his stomach. He was always sick to his stomach these days and he was tired of it. What Baylee really needed was out, an escape from the chaos he had caused, even if it was only temporary.

Jackson and Jace, the two teens who had been arrested right alongside him, were probably livid with Baylee at this point. For all he knew, they were still sitting in county because they had already aged out of juvenile detention and it wasn’t like they had a rich well respected lawyer for a cousin to bail them out. They probably even blamed Baylee too, even though they were the ones who had taken off running when the police showed up. Baylee had tried to run, too, but his damn leg had seized up as Jackson and Jace tossed the spray paint cans back at him in their mad dash to get away and the police found him on the pavement, clutching his leg in discomfort. It wasn’t Baylee’s best moment by any means.

Glancing over his shoulder towards the door, Baylee considered it for a moment. He couldn’t leave the house through the front door because his grandparents or even his douchey father would stop him. Baylee returned his attention to the window before he pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent a group text to both Jackson and Jace.

| _ You guys out??? _ |

When they didn’t respond right away like they normally did, Baylee sighed in frustration, shoved the device back into his pocket, and opened the window. The warm summer air greeted him with a blast of humidity that Baylee turned his nose up at. Carefully, he climbed up onto the window ledge and considered the large Bur Oak that was nestled right alongside the house, rather conveniently. Baylee didn’t have to reach far to be able to touch the leaves and branches. It was a sturdy beast of a tree, too, one that Baylee already knew from past experience could hold his weight as he snuck out of the house.

Creasing his forehead in determination, Baylee leaned out of the window and grabbed hold of the thickest branch near him, before pushing away from the edge. His heart leapt, skipping several beats as he dangled precariously from the branch. It held his weight, though, just as Baylee had expected it too, and grunting from the strain, he managed to swing his legs up to wrap them around the branch as well. Soon enough, Baylee had scooted along the branch until he reached the trunk of the tree and then carefully climbed the rest of the way down.

Baylee grinned to himself once his feet were back on solid ground. His left leg was cursing him something fierce, but not as much as it would be later on when he had to climb back up the tree. So, he carefully snuck away from the tree, retrieving his phone from his pocket once again to try to text Jackson and Jace a second time.

“Going somewhere?”

The scowl surfaced on Baylee’s face before he could stop it and he looked up to see Kevin standing directly in front of him with his arms crossed over his chest just as Baylee came around the side of the house. The teen stiffened at the unexpected encounter with his cousin. “I, uh…” he muttered. “I was going for a walk...around the neighborhood.”

“The front door would have been much easier than that tree,” Kevin noted knowingly, though there wasn’t a hint of amusement in his voice. He pointed towards the front door. “Nice try, though. You don’t have any business going anywhere right now with the trouble you’re in. Back inside.”

Baylee’s scowl deepened. “You’re not my dad, you know.”

Kevin rolled his eyes. “Trust me, kid. I thank God for that every day,” he replied and forced Baylee to start moving towards the front door. “But I’m your attorney who is trying to once again save your ass from being locked up in juvenile detention. So I suggest you march yourself back into that house.”

Baylee grumbled a shallow curse under his breath but turned back towards the house nonetheless. He led the way inside, shoving the door open with a huff, only to have his eyes narrow in annoyance as he watched his father come down the stairs. His hair was wet, so he must have just finished showering and he appeared not only surprised but taken aback to see Baylee coming in through the front door with Kevin close behind in his wake.

Brian focused on his son, fighting the wince that would show just how uncomfortable he really was. “I didn’t know you were outside,” he mentioned when Baylee diverted his attention elsewhere.

Kevin stepped beside Baylee, resting a firm hand on his shoulder. “No worries, cuz. He was just stepping out the front door when I pulled up. Said he needed some fresh air.”

Brian nodded, but still frowned regardless. “You’re not to be leaving the house unannounced, Bay,” he said. “That’s part of your restrictions until we get this figured out.”

Baylee whipped his eyes back to his father. “According to who?” he questioned sharply. “Because the last I checked, you didn’t give a damn one way or the other. How about you stop pretending you do to make yourself look good in front of Mamaw and Papa. Just go away.”

Kevin watched as Baylee stormed off up the stairs before he looked at Brian again. “I see he’s as fuzzy of a peach as always,” he chuckled dryly. “Don’t take it so personally.”

“Don’t take it so personally…” Brian shook his head, chuckling just as dryly. “Remind me to tell you that whenever Mason and Max begin to hate you on a regular basis.”

“It’s gonna take some time,” Kevin shrugged before draping his arm over Brian’s shoulders and leading him to the living room. “You’re doing the best you can. You just gotta remember that.”

“Everyone keeps telling me that, but it’s kinda hard to believe at the moment,” Brian replied and pulled away from him to sit heavily on the couch. “It’s not the easiest thing to believe when-”

Jackie stepped into the living room at that moment, her smile growing when she saw Kevin. “I thought I heard you talking,” she greeted and wasted no time approaching for a warm and inviting hug. “Now sit. Would you like something to drink? Something to eat? Has that wife of yours been feeding you enough? You’re looking awfully thin. I’m gonna make you lunch.”

“Aunt Jackie, I’m fine,” Kevin told her in return, his amusement clearly evident. He pressed a polite kiss to her cheek. “I really don’t need anything right now. And actually, I’ve got some important things we all need to talk about.”

“Oh, right.” Jackie blushed and fussed over Kevin again until he took a seat. “Let me go find where your uncle is hiding. I think he’s out back.”

Brian leaned back on the couch. “Some things never change, do they.”

Kevin’s smile was rueful as he sat beside his cousin. “Does a bear still shit in the woods?”

“As much as a hobo would eat a ham sandwich,” Brian replied with a quiet chuckle. He was hardly humored, but he attempted to make the effort for Kevin’s sake because he was honest to God thankful for the fact that his cousin was there at that moment. Grimacing openly, Brian ran his fingers through his still damp hair. “Tell me you have some good news to give.”

“Define...good news,” Kevin shrugged in response. He leaned forward, clasping his hands in front of him, elbows propped on his knees. “Let’s just put it this way...Baylee is gonna owe me his first born once this is all said and done.”

Brian wanted to question what Kevin meant, but his parents entered the living room and Kevin stood immediately to greet his uncle and politely shake his hand. After their brief round of pleasantries had been exchanged, Kevin returned to his seat while Harold and Jackie took their respective seats in the recliner across from them. The silence accumulated, slowly at first until it was suffocating from the palpable tension.

Harold gruffed to himself as he crossed his arms over his chest and allowed his eyes to flit up towards the ceiling. Brian could register his father’s anger visibly as much as he could see it; they’d barely spoken to each other. “Baylee, downstairs!” Harold bellowed in a way that commanded the continued silence of everyone around him. “ **_Now_ ** !”

Almost instantaneously, they heard a door open upstairs and the pounding of feet coming down the stairs hastily. It was only a moment later when Baylee finally appeared in the living room, flustered with his brows set in a hard scowl as he looked around at everyone. “Now what?” the teen huffed in annoyance.

“You watch your mouth, young man,” Harold told him firmly, the steely reflection of his angry eyes leaving no room for Baylee to question his grandfather’s intentions. “You take a seat politely. Don’t make me repeat myself.” Baylee stood a little straighter as Harold spoke, his face paling, before wordlessly he stepped over to the couch to sit beside Kevin. “Now...you’re gonna sit there and you’re gonna listen to whatever it is Kevin has to say. You are in no position right now to be arguing. Do I make myself clear?”

Baylee hesitated as he looked at him before finally muttering a little timidly, “Yes sir…”

Kevin waited to speak until he was certain Harold was satisfied with the answer he was given. Sitting up a little straighter, he cleared his throat, making sure he had everyone’s attention. “So I spoke with Judge Harmon this morning regarding your case, Baylee,” he stated, glancing sideways at the teen out the corner of his eye. “It hasn’t been assigned to him officially yet, but seeing as he and I have a good rapport, I decided to reach out to him to see what we have available to negotiate with. Unfortunately-”

Baylee’s scowl returned as he looked at his older cousin. “What do you mean,  **_unfortunately_ ** ?” he snapped, though the fear in his eyes was instantly evident. “You’re supposed to be a  **_good_ ** attorney!”

“One, I’m the best shot you got,” Kevin didn’t falter in responding. “And two, I would suggest you sit there and listen to everything I have to say before you start crying woe is me because of something  **_you_ ** did. And really, if we’re being honest here, even as your attorney, I can say that you  **_deserve_ ** to spend time in juvenile detention for your behavior this summer. But I also know that wouldn’t be the best thing for you because I give a damn, just like your dad and grandparents and everyone else does.”

Baylee scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Sure they do…”

“Bay, c’mon…” Brian sighed, his patience waning. He leaned forward a little to look around Kevin and see his son. “We’re trying to help you out here. Show Kev a little more respect.”

“ **_You’re_ ** trying to help me?” Baylee said in disbelief. The corner of his mouth curled upward in a sarcastic smirk. “It’s funny to hear  **_that_ ** coming out of your mouth considering you haven’t done  **_shit_ ** to help me since you forced me to move here a-”

“Baylee Thomas Wylee Littrell!” Jackie interrupted his grandson sharply because he could finish what he was saying. “That kind of language will  **_not_ ** be tolerated in the house! You need to start speaking to your father with more respect!”

“But Mamaw, it’s the damn truth!” Baylee threw back at her as the heat ignited once again in his cheeks, a heat of fury that his grandmother was defending his father like always and that she was scolding  **_him_ ** for it. “He acts like he gives a damn but he really doesn’t!”

Kevin held his hands up to cease the argument. “Okay, everybody just calm down,” he spoke steadily, hands lifting to signal everyone to be quiet. When nobody spoke up with further argument, Kevin stood from the couch and stepped over to stand in the middle of the room so he could focus on his family members all at the same time. “You’ve developed a real issue with authority in your life, Baylee,” he continued, arms returning to cross over his chest much in the same manner of Baylee’s posture. “Therein lies the big problem. You don’t listen. You think you know it all and you think the world is yours for the taking or at the very least should be handed to you on a silver platter. But you’re nothing more than a spoiled self-entitled brat who is taking what you  **_do_ ** have, especially your dad and your grandparents, for granted.” Kevin raised his brows impatiently. “Now, are you gonna actually let me  **_help_ ** you or are you gonna continue to sit there running your mouth? Because if that’s the case, then let's just stop this meeting right now and I’ll drive you down to Fayette’s juvenile detention center myself.”

“I’m starting to think that maybe that would be for the best,” Harold said as his gaze shifted from his grandson to his nephew. “He doesn’t want to listen to anyone? Then spending some time locked up  **_might_ ** be good for him after all.”

“That’s not fair!” Baylee interjected, his eyes widening in surprise. “I’m not going! You can’t just throw me in Juvie like you don’t give a damn about me!”

Kevin scratched at his temple in thought. “...Isn’t that what you were just accusing them of, not caring about you?”

Baylee stumbled over his response. “Well...no...yes! Yes, okay, fine, maybe him,” he stuttered and jabbed his thumb in his father’s direction. “But not Mamaw and Papa. I **_know_** **_they_** care about me.”

“Then shut your mouth, kid, and listen for once.” Kevin waited for Baylee to open his mouth again and when the teen didn’t, he nodded. “Good. That’s a start.” Inhaling deep, Kevin ran his hand through his hair before continuing. “So, like I said, I spoke with Judge Harmon.  **_Unfortunately_ ** , there’s no sweeping this under the rug and getting you out of a court appearance. There’s no avoiding any form of punishment either. What you did-”

“But I  **_didn’t_ ** do it!” Baylee threw his hands up in exasperation. “Jackson and Jace were the ones who actually did the graffiti. I was just  **_there_ ** .”

“What you did-” Kevin ignored him as he proceeded. “-isn’t excusable no matter how you look at it. You willingly participated as a bystander in an act of damage to city property and, forgive me because I use the term bystander lightly, but it’s a serious crime. With your track record this summer, you’re looking at a year in juvenile detention  **_minimum_ ** , along with paying restitution to the city and all court costs.”

Baylee looked like he was on the verge of jumping up from the couch. “But-”

“ **_If_ ** you don’t listen very closely to what I have to say next,” Kevin told him calmly, making sure he had Baylee’s full attention. “I negotiated a deal with Judge Harmon and we offered it to the prosecuting attorney for approval or denial. Believe it or not, the prosecuting attorney accepted the deal. So if I were you, kid, I’d be thanking my lucky stars right now because this...all of it is pretty damn unprecedented. And it’s your  **_last_ ** get out of jail free card.”

“Wait, so...Baylee  **_won’t_ ** have to spend any time in juvenile detention?” Brian questioned with a faint frown. “What’s the catch?”

Kevin glanced at him. “He’ll still have to appear in court for a formal arraignment at which point the prosecuting attorney will offer the agreement that was drafted. I requested to have Baylee’s case fast tracked to get him into court next week, otherwise we’d be looking at months out from now and less chance of getting the agreement to hold.”

“He’ll be there,” Harold gruffed again.

“Why can’t you just appear  **_for_ ** me?” Baylee pressed, this time his voice less steady and void of all confidence. “Like the other times?”

“Because it’s up to  **_you_ ** to convince Judge Harmon and the prosecuting attorney that you deserve the deal that’s gonna be offered to you,” Kevin answered with a small shrug. “I’ve already done my job for you, Baylee. You’re family and I love you, but that also means I’ve really stepped out on the line for you and if you’re not willing to help yourself and straighten up your act, then I can’t continue risking my reputation to clean up your messes. You’re just shy of being an adult, so it’s time you start acting like it.”

Brian wrung his hands together, staring at them in serious thought. “What are the terms of the agreement?”

“Two hundred hours of community service, along with one year of unsupervised probation,” Kevin started to explain, briefly glancing in the direction of his aunt and uncle. “Baylee will also be expected to pay a percentage of the restitution owed to the city for the damage that was done, as well as all fines imposed by the court.”

“That’s such bullshit…” Baylee muttered under his breath.

“You will be expected to attend your senior year of high school in a satisfactory manner and keep your grades up,” Kevin added. “That’s non-negotiable. And starting the day after tomorrow, you will begin to see a therapist twice a week, on Mondays and Fridays. That is the final part of the agreement. Whether you want to admit to it or not, it’s time you start talking to someone outside of the family who can help you come to terms with what you’ve been through and I assured both Judge Harmon and the prosecuting attorney that you would have yourself established with a therapist prior to your arraignment. You either agree to the terms as they are or you go straight to juvenile detention after your arraignment. You screw up even  **_once_ ** during your year of probation and you’ll go straight to juvenile detention. There won’t be any talking your way out of it again because a member of your family happens to be one of the most respected attorneys in the area. I’m telling you, Baylee...these are your only options.”

“No.” Baylee shook his head, his eyes pleading with Kevin. “I’ll do the stupid community service and I’ll get a job to pay the fines, but I’m sure as Hell not going to go talk to some dumbass therapist and give them my sob story.”

“Bay, c’mon, think about it…” Brian started to reason with him. “Kev’s right; you don’t have any other choice if you want to keep your freedom and not completely throw your life away. And besides, Bub...I think you talking to a therapist and working through what has happened would be a good thing for you.”

“You think…” Baylee chuckled sarcastically, although Brian couldn’t tell for sure if his son was actually chuckling or trying to mask a surprising sob. “What do  **_you_ ** know about what’s best for  **_me_ ** ? Huh? The only thing you’re good at is worrying about yourself!”

“Just calm down and listen to me, Bub…” Brian trailed.

“No, you don’t get to tell me that!” Baylee snapped at his father, his voice rising in both tone and volume. This time, Brian could see the bitter tears brimming his son’s eyes. “You don’t get to sit there and try to act like you care so much all of a sudden when you haven’t given a shit less about me this past year! I hate you!”

Brian had to purse his lips together a moment before he could respond. “I know you don’t mean that,” he whispered regretfully.

“Yeah, I do! I fucking hate you!” Baylee stood rigidly from the couch, his eyes seething at his father. “I wish Mom was still alive and you had died instead! Or Hell, even living with Uncle Nick would be better than living with you! No wonder he hated you so much before he died!”

Harold was on his feet before anyone else in the room could process what was happening. His face was furious, reddening as the seconds passed and he pointed stiffly towards the living room doorway. “You get up to your room right now, boy, or so help me God…”

“Harold…” Jackie murmured.

“ **_NOW!_ ** ” Harold shouted, his hand shaking with fury.

Brian felt the first of many quakes race along the length of his spine as Baylee stormed out of the living room and once his son was finally gone from sight, he realized just how much difficulty he was having trying to get a sufficient amount of air into his lungs. Kevin had returned to the spot beside him on the couch and Brian could vaguely feel his cousin’s hand on his shoulder, just enough that he managed to fumble to push it away and stand. “I need to leave.”

Jackie started to stand as well. “Sweetheart, don’t…”

For a brief moment, Brian allowed his gaze to meet his mother’s and in the silence they stood there, trying to communicate. But it was the moment he saw the tears of distress in his mother’s eyes that carried Brian out of the living room without looking back.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

  
  


“Baylee...how about you come sit so we can talk.”

Baylee frowned to himself at the sound of the therapist’s voice as she called out to him. Becca, but she said her clients usually just called her Bec. Something about wanting the process to feel more on the informal side to make it as comfortable as possible. Baylee had found her intimidating at first when he’d walked through the door and found her almost bubbly personality waiting for him on one of two bean bag chairs four days prior. However, it was her kind eyes that drew Baylee, no matter how much he had hesitated just inside the doorway.

They’d barely talked during that first session, or rather Bec did most of the talking and Baylee just kind of sat there awkwardly, listening. It’s not like he’d wanted to be there. In fact, he would have rather been anywhere else  **_but_ ** there. But his grandparents and Kevin made damn sure it was clear Baylee had no choice in the matter, as if he hadn’t already spent a good ten minutes standing in front of the judge during his arraignment in court having the terms of his release drilled into his head.

The only thing that made that first therapy session tolerable was the fact that Bec was easy to listen to. Not that it made Baylee any less annoyed that he was having to do therapy in the first place, but at least Bec didn’t have one of those annoying voices that grated on the nerves like nails on a chalkboard. Bec’s voice was warm and inviting like a gentle song. And she didn’t nag at Baylee, either. Thank God she didn’t nag at him like everyone else in his life.

“I’m going to make a cup of coffee before we get started.” Baylee heard the bean bag shift beneath Bec as she rose to her feet, but he didn’t turn to her from where he stood studying a rather large and colorful abstract painting on the wall. It was chaotic and calming all at the same time. “Would you like one as well? Or a bottle of water? Or cookies...I picked up a box of cookies fresh from the bakery this morning.”

Baylee blinked to pull himself from the captivating hold the painting had on him. “No,” he muttered, slightly shaking his head. The thought of eating or drinking anything made him sick to his stomach. “I don’t want anything. Unless you’re offering me a way out of here.”

Bec glanced down at her watch. “Hmmm, I can do that,” she mused when Baylee looked in her direction. Their eyes met. “In an hour...when our session is finished.”

“Funny…” Baylee grumbled and grudgingly made his way over to the bean bag chair Bec had set out for him. He moved it a little further away, just out of spite, and plopped down in it. “Got anything stronger? You know, like...a bottle of Jack? Or even a cold can of beer?”

“Sorry, fresh out.” Bec turned to him as the Keurig machine began to brew the cup of coffee. “Something tells me supporting underage drinking is frowned upon anyway.”

“Yeah, if you’re living under a rock and don’t know how to have fun.” Baylee shrugged in response. “I’m a teen. It’s what we do. Pretty sure it’s in the teen code of conduct book...or something.”

“Is getting arrested three times in one summer in there as well?” Bec grabbed the cup of coffee once it was finished brewing and carried it over, returning to her seat. She offered Baylee a small smile of understanding when he looked away from her in embarrassment. “Listen...I know you don’t wanna be here and you only are because the judge said you have to. But...I’m asking you to at least have an open mind about this, okay? We can make it whatever you want to make it and we can go at whatever pace you feel most comfortable. Baylee, first and foremost, I’m here to listen to whatever you have to say. To...lend you an unbiased ear, which can definitely be a nice thing to have when you don’t feel heard otherwise.”

Baylee crossed his arms over his chest, feeling a bit like an idiot for getting offended. “You  **_have_ ** to say that,” he muttered and truthfully wished he could just sink down into the bean bag chair and disappear. “I just don’t see what the point of all of this is. It’s a waste of time.”

Bec contemplated the statement as she nursed the steaming cup of coffee held in her hands. “Okay...so, you feel this is a waste of time,” she nodded slowly. “Trust me, Sweets. You’re not the first person to tell me that and you won’t be the last. However, that doesn’t change the fact that these sessions are a requirement of the court. If you need me to keep reminding you of that so it’s easier for you to deal with, then I can. But...you seem like a smart guy with a good head on his shoulders that has just fallen a little crooked. I was a teen once myself, y’know. I remember how difficult it was, trying to figure out how to navigate all the areas of my life while also trying to figure out who I was. I can admit that adults tend to forget the amount of pressure teens are put under, especially these days…”

Baylee tuned Bec out and allowed his mind to wander. She was right about one thing...he was only there sitting in that stupid bean bag chair listening to Bec and her psychotherapy bullshit for a second time because that dumbass Judge Harmon ordered it...because Kevin took it upon himself to negotiate a deal with the judge and the prosecuting attorney without consulting Baylee first...because apparently  **_everyone_ ** was out to ruin the last two weeks of summer that he had left.

Getting arrested  **_again_ ** might have had something to do with it, but that was beside the point. Now, Baylee didn’t have an out. If he wanted to stay out of juvenile detention and actually have an opportunity to try to enjoy his senior year of high school, albeit a year late, then he had to play by the rules, he had to keep his behavior in check, and he had to start pretending like he gave a damn about all of it.

The problem was that as more time passed, the more difficult Baylee found it to actually care. It had taken everything Baylee had within him to stand in front of the judge and put on the facade that was expected of him. The fake tears as he pleaded with the judge to give him one more chance were a nice touch in his opinion, but apparently Kevin hadn’t been nearly as impressed. His cousin had let him know it, too. However smug Baylee had been with his performance, though, he didn’t get to enjoy it.

Leaving the courtroom, Kevin had taken Baylee and his grandparents into a small briefing room usually used between attorneys and their clients either before or after an appearance. Baylee figured it was probably just to lecture him again, only he wasn’t expecting to see his father sitting at the table with an unfamiliar woman, waiting for them to join. Baylee had nearly flown off the handle too, but Kevin silenced him with a firm squeeze on the shoulder and a glance of warning. Hell, Baylee had actually been afraid that if he opened his mouth, Kevin would march right back into the courtroom and tell the judge the deal was off.

For a split second, Baylee had thought maybe juvenile detention didn’t sound so bad after all…

...until he learned the real reason why his father was there after not being able to bother himself to show up for the arraignment, or so Baylee had thought. There was a thin stack of papers sitting on the table and the unfamiliar woman was a court appointed notary. That’s when Kevin explained that they were all together in that room for one purpose only...to sign the agreement he had drafted at Brian’s request that would grant Baylee’s grandparents temporary guardianship. Baylee could barely focus as Kevin explained the arrangement would last for six months, at which point they would reconvene to assess whether to terminate the agreement, extend the guardianship or go a more permanent route.

Baylee had stopped listening as soon as he heard the word “permanent” come out of Kevin’s mouth. All he could think about was the fact that his father was  **_actually throwing him away_ ** . He wouldn’t look at Baylee, the coward that he was, and the teen hated him even more for it. So, Baylee had signed his name on the agreement when he was instructed to do so and stormed from the small room before anyone could see the angry tears that had formed in his eyes.

Baylee cried himself to sleep that night for the first time in months and he would never admit to it either. God, it made him miss his mother even more…

“Tell me about your dad...”

Baylee pulled out of his thoughts as Bec managed to grab his attention again. He scowled at her, more annoyed than anything else that she would bring his father up when that was the  **_last_ ** thing he wanted to talk about. Baylee visibly stiffened and shook his head, his voice gruff with irritation. “I don’t wanna talk about him.”

“...May I inquire why?” Bec questioned him after some consideration.

“Because he’s a fucking dick!” Baylee burst before he could think to stop himself. His cheeks instantly lit with heat and he cursed himself internally.

Bec nodded patiently. “It sounds like you’re harboring a lot of anger towards him.”

“Anger?” Baylee chuckled sarcastically. “Anger has  **_nothing_ ** to do with it.”

“If it’s not anger...how would you describe it?” Bec lifted the cup of coffee to her lips for another sip.

Baylee clenched and unclenched his jaw. “I  **_hate_ ** him. I honest to God  **_hate_ ** him,” he huffed and absently picked at an invisible piece of lint on his jeans. “Why does it even matter?”

Bec set the cup of coffee aside and sunk further into her bean bag chair. “It’s apparent that it matters to you,” she said. “And your reluctance to talk about it is a clear indication of that. You’re trying to avoid the hurt that comes with the subject and I can’t blame you for that. As humans, our natural instinct is to protect ourselves from any and all forms of pain. We don’t like to hurt because we don’t like to be uncomfortable. We don’t like to be uncomfortable because it makes us vulnerable. And when we’re vulnerable, we feel like we have no control. Would I be correct in saying right now you feel like you don’t have much control?”

“I don’t have  **_any_ ** control!” Baylee snapped at her as he jumped up from his bean bag chair to begin furiously pacing. “My mom died and my dad doesn’t want me anymore!”

Bec calmly watched the teen pace. “Why do you feel that way? That your dad doesn’t want you anymore?”

Baylee lifted his hands to dig his palms against his eyes, embarrassed and frustrated that he was once again on the verge of crying. “Because...he threw me away on Wednesday after court like he was just taking out the trash! Signed over his parental rights to Mamaw and Papa like he couldn’t give a damn! He wouldn’t even look at me either!”

“Temporary guardianship?” Bec guessed.

“How the Hell am I supposed to know?” Baylee growled in return. “I’m just a stupid teenager who is throwing his life away!”

“I’m not an expert in family law, but I do know the proceedings would have looked a lot different if your dad was terminating his parental rights,” Bec explained. “Let’s talk about how what happened after court on Wednesday made you feel.”

“You’re kidding me right now, right?” Baylee turned back to her, his eyes widening a bit in disbelief. “How do  **_you_ ** think it made me feel?”

Bec’s patient expression didn’t falter as their eyes met. “Confused...betrayed...hurt...just for starters. Stop me if I’m wrong.” Baylee didn’t say anything and Bec could tell by the way he averted his eyes elsewhere that she had hit the nail on the head. “Baylee...it’s been a long time since someone actually  **_listened_ ** to you, hasn’t it…”

“It doesn’t matter…” the teen muttered, his voice noticeably quaking.

“Except...it matters to  **_you_ ** ,” Bec answered softly with understanding. “And now that someone is actually giving you an opportunity to be heard, it scares you...because that means having to face what you’ve been running from all this time, since you lost your mom. But what you need to understand, Baylee, is that it’s okay to be scared, especially when you’re  **_here_ ** , in this space. This is a place you can actually release whatever thoughts are going through your head and not have to worry about being judged or hated or abandoned because of how you feel. And you deserve that. You’ve deserved that for a long time.”

It took a few moments, but Baylee gradually managed to bring himself back over to sit in the bean bag chair he had abandoned. He sank into it heavily, foolishly swiping a hasty hand at the bitter tears that began to brim his eyes. “He hates me…”

Bec tilted her head slightly to the side, studying him. “Who hates you, Baylee?”

“M-my dad,” Baylee swallowed thickly as he tried to answer. He drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. “He h-hates me.”

“That’s a really strong statement.” Bec shifted her own bean bag chair so that it was directly in front of the teen. “Why do you think your dad hates you?”

When Baylee lifted his head to meet Bec’s eyes with his, the tears had begun to slip down his cheeks. “Because...I killed my mom,” he choked.

“The accident,” Bec nodded encouragingly. “Is that something you want to talk about, Baylee? What happened the day the accident occurred?”

Baylee buried his face in his hands, unable to stop the sobs that took over him. They wracked him from head to toe and caused his back to quake, but Baylee was past the point of caring about whatever bit of his dignity remained. “It’s...it’s  **_my_ ** fault,” he sobbed, flinching away when Bec reached out to place a gentle hand on his knee. “My mom is d-dead because of me! If we wouldn’t have been...if  **_she_ ** wouldn’t have been...it’s all  **_my_ ** fault! I was driving! I-I crashed my truck and now she’s dead! He blames me for it!”

“Baylee…” Bec reached out for him again, but Baylee shoved her hand away. “...You know what an accident is, right?”

Baylee leapt out of the bean bag chair, resuming how he was previously pacing. His eyes shifted wildly back and forth, though it wasn’t the room he and Bec were in that Baylee saw. The room had melted away, transforming into the familiar leather interior of his beloved truck, the musky smell of the air freshner dangling from the rear view mirror, the blast of the air conditioner, the weight of his mother’s presence in the front passenger seat.

_ “...I heard you guys fighting this morning.” _

_ “What goes on between your father and I...it’s not something you should be concerning yourself with.” _

_ “Mom, no offense, but, uh...I’m not a little kid anymore, so…” _

_ “It’s easy to forget that sometimes. You’ve grown up too fast.” _

_ Baylee could feel the sensation of his mother’s fingers sliding through his hair as she playfully ruffled his curls and her rueful smile was warming, so familiar and comforting. But there was also a haunting sadness in her eyes, an emotion she had been trying to hide from Baylee all day, even though he knew better. It was because he knew his mother well. He knew when she was more than just bothered. This time she was actually distraught, no matter how she tried to spin it for Baylee’s sake. _

_ “...Is he okay?” _

_ “Your father?” _

_ “Yeah, is Dad okay? I dunno...I guess I’m just worried about him. Something feels off…” _

_ “Honestly, Bay, your guess is as good as mine…” _

_ “Dad tries to fix everything.” _

_ “Even when he can’t. But he’s stubborn and hard headed at times.” _

_ “Guess I know where I get that from then.” _

_ Suddenly, Baylee’s eyes locked with his mother’s and he opened his mouth to call out for her just as the truck left the road, catapulting in a disastrous tumble down the shallow incline. The world around them spun in every direction as the sound of metal crushing in on itself with every impact mixed with the sound of his mother’s screams. And then nothing. An empty black silence surrounded them- _

Bec’s hands were on Baylee’s shoulders when he came to. Her lips were moving as if she were speaking and her eyes were filled with a genuine concern that reminded him a lot of his mother, but Baylee couldn’t hear a word she was saying to him. He stumbled back from her just as the sounds of his surroundings came rushing back into his ears all at once, his back hitting the edge of the nearby table. “No...no... **_NO!!!_ ** ”

“Baylee, sweetheart…” Bec attempted to coach the teen to draw his attention back to her as she watched him crumble further. “Focus on me. Deep breaths. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

A howl of distress ripped from Baylee’s throat and he sunk to his knees, hands gripping his head. “I didn’t mean to!” he sobbed pitifully. “I didn’t mean to kill her! I’m sorry!”

What felt like out of nowhere, a comforting embrace drew Baylee in as he continued to sob and for a split second, his torn mind thought it was his mother until he recognized the sound of Bec’s voice soothing him back into a state of calm. Baylee wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, his emotions getting the best of him while Bec diligently remained at his side with an unwavering patience.

“That’s enough for today,” Bec told Baylee when his sobs finally ceased and she was certain he wouldn’t collapse in a heap on the floor. Only, try as Bec did to gain his attention, the teen was trying his hardest to look everywhere else but at her. “Baylee...you have nothing to be ashamed of. You’re allowed to hurt the way you are and you’re allowed to be angry about what happened to your mom. None of it is fair, no matter how much you try to make sense of it. But it was an accident, something you had no control over. What do you think your mom would say if she were here with you right now?”

Baylee scooted back from Bec and haphazardly rose to his feet. “I gotta go. I don’t wanna...I can’t do this,” he stuttered with a weak shake of his head. “I just wanna leave. I have to go.” He was out the door before Bec had a chance to try to stop him, hurrying past his grandmother who had been waiting for him in the lobby, and dashed out of the building to get to her car before he managed to fall apart anymore.

  
  


◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️

  
  


Stepping into the cold blast from the air conditioner was a welcomed relief from the hot Kentucky summer sun as Brian entered his apartment, sweaty, tired, and grumpy from the heat. At least the damn AC unit was still working after Chuck had gotten an HVAC company to come out and service it. Not that it dulled the desire Brian had to break the lease with the landlord and find a new place that was a little more reliable. Even  **_he_ ** found himself wondering at times why he didn’t get something a little nicer or a little bigger when he most certainly could afford it.

But it was so much more than finding a new place to move into. Brian decided he would need something a little more permanent than an apartment, perhaps a midsize house to make up for the lack of space in his current arrangement. It’s not like Brian was planning on leaving Lexington any time soon, if ever, honestly. Jackie had been right that returning home to his roots would be the best thing for him, but whether the same was true for Baylee or not was what troubled him. It was as if his son resented Brian for the move, among other things he tried and failed to understand, and now it was more than just a disconnect between father and son...their relationship was fractured, lying around them in total disrepair.

Baylee hated him and had made that perfectly clear the previous week. It was how Brian had arrived at the decision to transfer temporary guardianship to his parents in the first place. Not that he was fond of the idea of just throwing in the towel, but he didn’t see any other choice. Brian feared he was only hurting Baylee more and couldn’t offer the means of healing his son needed to work through his trauma. Baylee trusted Jackie and Harold and that was just something Brian had to remain grateful for, no matter how much it hurt. If he couldn’t provide for Baylee what Baylee needed, then he knew his parents could and would.

If only Leighanne were there to see the mess that had become of the life they had built together…

The thought left a sour taste in Brian’s mouth because it was just a daunting reminder that the only reason why he and Baylee were even in their current situation in the first place was because Leighanne wasn’t there. His late wife truly had been the glue that was holding them all together and sadly, it had taken losing her just to realize it. It also made Brian wonder just how much truth there was to the idea of if Baylee would have been better off if he still had his mother and had lost his father instead.

It was clear Baylee would have been happier or at the very least learned to cope better…

Dropping the stack of mail he’d grabbed from the postal box onto the kitchen counter, Brian kept a tight grip on the local newspaper he had purchased while running his errands and made his way over to the fridge, reaching up to the cabinet beside it to retrieve the bottle of Jack Daniels Tennessee Whiskey before carrying the items into the living room. Brian dropped in a dejected manner onto the couch a moment later, grimacing when the cushion sagged beneath him more than he preferred. It was certainly nothing like the couch at the old house, but that’s what he got for brazenly buying the first couch his eyes came across in the furniture store prior to moving into the apartment. The purchase had come with a considerable lack of consideration, along with everything else that furnished Brian’s current household. Cheap, lifeless, dully colored...pretty much how Brian felt inside and out.

Except for Baylee’s room. Brian had gone above and beyond to make his son’s room as close to how it had been at their previous house, right down to the bedding and decorations, some of which he had brought back with him after making a return trip to finalize the sell of the house after it had been on the market for several months. Baylee’s belongings were the only things he brought back with him. Everything else, mainly stuff that had been Leighanne’s, went into a storage unit back there that Brian set up on automatic monthly payments because he couldn’t bear the thought of getting rid of them. Anything that hadn’t specifically been Leighanne’s, Brian insisted on giving to AJ and Howie or having them sell for him whatever they didn’t want. All Brian knew was that he wanted nothing to do with any of it anymore. It made the memories too painful. It made longing for his wife and his old life suffocating. It made life excruciatingly unbearable for the most part, which was how he ended up spending the majority of the first six months back in Kentucky rarely leaving his parents house or the apartment.

Brian unscrewed the cap from the bottle of whiskey and lifted the rim to his lips for a hasty sip. He welcomed the burn of the liquor as it slid easily down his throat and after setting the bottle aside, he leaned forward to lay the newspaper on the coffee table. Brian opened it to the  _ Classifieds _ section, eyes scanning the page without much thought. Then again, he wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking for. He didn’t  **_need_ ** a job...between his severance pay from the precinct and what he and Leighanne accumulated together over the years, plus what was left over from her life insurance policy, Brian would be comfortably set for a long while. Although, he refused to touch any of the remaining funds from Leighanne’s life insurance. He was insistent that should go straight to his son and had promptly placed the money in a savings account as soon as he was settled in Lexington. Baylee didn’t know about it yet because Brian didn’t know  **_how_ ** to tell him.

Then again, something to occupy his time might not be such a bad idea after all. Jackie had been pushing for Brian to start doing something with his time and even Harry had offered to bring Brian on as a partner in his construction business. As highly successful as Harry’s business was, there would be plenty of work for the brothers to share in, but Brian had so far been reluctant. He didn’t want the hand out and he sure as Hell didn’t need any other sort of charity to complicate his life. Really, Brian would have much rather preferred his family leave him alone about his personal matters, but clearly that wouldn’t be happening anytime soon. If anything, maybe spending part of his time working with Harry would get them off his back a bit…

Brian shook his head in doubt, blindly reaching for the bottle of whiskey again as he shifted his gaze to the next page of  _ Classifieds _ . More generic job ads for positions he had zero interest in doing. The whiskey burned Brian’s throat again with another sip, warming his insides. He had never been much of a drinker of hard liquor, but that was the past and the past was history. Now, Brian preferred the stronger the better. At least it kept him company at night and it numbed the pain when the haunting nightmares became too much for him to handle. Never in all his years of life and suddenly Brian had developed a drinking habit…

...Albeit  **_secret_ ** drinking habit.

_ Charming three story, Queen Anne Victorian with wrap-around porch built in 1878. In need of renovations. For sale by owner. $275,000. Contact Aspen Realty for inquiries. _

Brian found his attention focused on the photo of the house above the advertisement, his head tilting slightly to the side as the rim of the whiskey bottle lingered against his lips. Charming seemed to be a bit of an understatement for the towering structure that clearly showed its age. It looked more like it was in need of some tender loving care to bring back its natural beauty, but the small black and white photo made it a little difficult to tell. Still, Brian couldn’t deny the fact that it had him intrigued. The cost alone was a surprise considering how much higher houses constructed in the architectural style of Queen Anne Victorian usually went for. Swallowing another hasty sip of the whiskey, Brian drew the ad closer for further study.

The house was located in the heart of one of Lexington’s historical neighborhoods, surrounded by a plethora of architectural styles. Brian recognized the neighborhood; it was only a ten minute drive from his parents’ house and the apartment, fifteen if traffic was heavy. Not to mention the neighborhood was far more inviting than the dump of the area he was currently living in. It took a moment for Brian to realize he was actually entertaining the idea of looking into the old towering house and rather seriously, too, and when he did, he heard AJ’s voice echoing in his head from one of their most recent conversations over the phone.

_ “Sitting around the way you are isn’t going to do any good if you want things to get better. You need to find a way, a  _ **_healthy_ ** _ way, of occupying your time so your mind stops having the opportunity to torture you the way I know it has been. And don’t try to bullshit me, man, and say it hasn’t been, because I can hear it in your voice. Take up a new hobby or start a project. Something,  _ **_anything_ ** _ , to keep you busy and get you to start living again. If I have to come to Lexington to kick your ass into gear, I will. Trust me when I say that’s not a threat, it’s a promise.” _

Brian didn’t have a doubt in his mind that AJ wouldn’t hesitate to jump on the first opportunity to come visit. The younger man was the  **_only_ ** one Brian really kept in touch with from his old life and they had discussed the idea of AJ and his family coming to visit on more than one occasion. But whenever it actually came time to make a solid plan, Brian always came up with an excuse why it wasn’t a good time. It wasn’t that he didn’t  **_want_ ** to see AJ, he was just afraid he wouldn’t be able to handle being face to face with his friend after all this time when he was most definitely worse off than the last time AJ had seen him.

One of these days, AJ was just gonna show up unannounced whether Brian wanted him to or not.

Brian chuckled at the thought and reached into his pocket, pulling his phone out along with a small container of pills. Popping two of the dual-colored capsules into his mouth--leftover pain medication from the year prior after he’d been released from the hospital--and swallowing them with a swig of the whiskey, Brian grimaced and brought the browser up on his phone, conducting a quick search for the realty company listed in the ad. There was a phone number, but he was looking for an email address to express his interest since it was after hours and it was heading into the weekend. Brian wanted to get a head start and decided if he didn’t hear back from them first thing Monday morning, he would put through a call as well. He wasn’t sure  **_what_ ** it was about the house listing that captivated his attention, but something inside of Brian told him it would be worth looking into.

As soon as Brian had finished typing out the short email with his contact information and his thumb clumsily tapped the screen to send it, he could already feel the effects of the liquor and medication beginning to swirl through his system. He knew it wasn’t the smartest combination to ingest and was more like playing with fire in some ways, but sometimes Brian just...needed that little extra kick to dull the turbulence plaguing his mind. With everything that was going on, especially the recent development with Baylee and Brian’s decision to transfer guardianship over to his parents, he needed to reach that point where he just couldn’t think anymore, the point where he didn’t even  **_care_ ** to think. Taking the risk was worth it if it meant numbing the pain from the fact that he had become such a failure in every area of his life.

Brian carelessly abandoned his phone next to him and leaned back into the couch, the bottle of Jack Daniels still tightly gripped in his hand. His eyes fluttered shut, allowing the floating sensation to intensify around him. Never in a million years would Brian have stopped to imagine his life would ever end up this way, a widower in his mid forties with a teenage son he cowardly handed over to his parents because he couldn’t handle the hate Baylee had for him. Brian also never would have guessed he’d become the type of person to develop drinking and pill habits either. And yet, that was everything he had become and then some.

_ ‘Look on the bright side,’ _ Brian thought to himself with a snort of irony.  _ ‘Your wife isn’t here to be embarrassed about the royal fuck up you’ve become.’ _

Baylee was right...it should have been Brian who died that day, not Leighanne.

“Moody you is a real bitch, you know that?”

Brian’s eyes snapped open when the sound of the familiar voice invaded his clouded mind and when his fuzzy gaze landed on the last face he ever expected to look at again for the rest of his life, Brian jumped haphazardly and scrambled to scoot towards the opposite end of the couch. “ **_Nick?!_ ** ” he yelped in disbelief, unfazed by the liquor that spilled out of the bottle in the midst of his messy attempt to move away. Brian blinked, hoping for his vision to clear so he could think rationally and realize that the image of his deceased little brother sitting on the arm rest of the couch was nothing more than a drug and alcohol induced hallucination. Only, it didn’t seem to matter how many times Brian blinked and shook his head...Nick remained perched casually on the arm rest, arms crossed over his chest in amusement.

“No, man, it’s the fucking Pope from the Vatican paying you a personal visit,” Nick snorted with a wicked grin. “Here in the flesh to convert you to Catholicism. We’ve got cookies.”

At first, Brian didn’t realize just how heavily he was breathing until it became very apparent he couldn’t get a deep enough breath into his lungs. His eyes widened and he even trembled a little as he shook his head again. “How- No no no, this isn’t...this isn’t possible…” he stuttered before slipping off the edge of the couch and hitting the floor hard. The bottle of Jack Daniel’s slipped from his grasp, the contents soaking into the carpet, all while Nick continued to watch him closely, that infamous look of amusement plastered on his face. “This is not- No. There is  **_no way in Hell_ ** this could possibly be happening.”

“What’s wrong?” Nick chuckled, brows cocked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Brain’s mouth opened in a silent stutter of disbelief. It took a significant amount of effort to get his voice to project. “A ghost?!” He scooted further away from the couch, trying to regain control of his breathing and failing horribly. “I’m looking at one right now!”

Nick looked down at himself momentarily. “Hmmm...you might wanna lay off the liquor and pills there, big brother,” he mused as his gaze returned to Brian’s panicked face. “Pretty sure I would know if I was a ghost. Sorry to disappoint ya. How cool would that shit be, though? Getting to go all Patrick Swayze up in this joint?”

Brian lifted his hands to rub at his face in denial. “But you’re dead,” he mustered weakly. “You’re  **_dead_ ** and I’m  **_drunk_ ** .”

“Drunk ain’t the only thing you are right now,” Nick snorted inwardly, reaching to lift the bottle of pills from where Brian had set them on the coffee table. “I can smell that Jack you’ve been drinking from a mile away, but Vicodin also?” Nick glanced at him again, fighting a smirk. “Gotta be honest...I never would have pegged you as the pill popping type.” He shrugged and set the pill bottle back down. “Then again, you were never much of a drinker either. Still...since when do you take Vicodin? I mean, couldn’t you have started a drug habit with a drug that is reputedly cooler than  **_Vicodin_ ** ? Hi, my name is Brian and I chew Vicodin like it’s candy. See? Just doesn’t sound cool. Now if we’re talking Oxy-”

“ **_How the Hell is this even possible?!_ ** ” Brian suddenly shouted as he pushed himself up onto his feet. He wasn’t sure how he managed to do so with the way the room was teetering around him, but the next thing he knew, he was upright and waving his hands wildly. “ **_You’re dead! I killed you!_ ** ”

“Yeah, dude, what the fuck was up with that?” Nick huffed. “You gotta be pretty damn sick and twisted to kill your own brother.”

Brian blinked in confusion as he stumbled over his response. “But...but  **_you_ ** tried to kill  **_me_ ** …”

Nick rolled his eyes. “Did you really have to bring **_that_** up?” he questioned, watching knowingly as Brian teetered in place and finally toppled over. Nick approached to stand over him. “Let’s just chalk it up to a temporary moment of insanity,” he shrugged and held a hand out to help Brian up. “Jesus, Brian...how many pills did you wash down with the whiskey?”

“I, uh…” Brian swallowed thickly, his mouth suddenly as dry as sandpaper, and flitted his eyes nervously to Nick’s outstretched hand. “A couple.”

“A couple, huh?” Nick chuckled again and took hold of Brian’s hand, grunting as he pulled the older man up onto unsteady feet. “One is too many, dumbass. C’mon, let's get you onto the couch before you fall over again and knock yourself out. You’re gonna regret this in the morning.”

Brian’s mind swam around him as he moved in a sluggish manner towards the couch. When he reached the piece of furniture, he dropped onto it heavily with a hard sigh. “Nick?” Brian mumbled, prying eyes open he didn’t even realize he had closed in the first place. His brother was standing awkwardly at the side of the couch, staring down at him. “What are you...what are you doing here?”

Nick shrugged. “I dunno. You tell me,” he said and lowered himself into the spot beside Brian on the couch. He stretched his legs out and propped them up on the coffee table. “Nice dump you’re living in, by the way. Apparently you’ve lowered your standards.”

“It’s temporary,” Brian slurred, lifting numb hands to rub at his face in hopes of clearing his mind more. “I just wanted something simple.”

“Sure, if that helps you sleep better at night.” Nick looked at him sideways, brows curled inward towards the center of his forehead. “Seriously, this place would be bad even for me.”

“What the Hell do you care?” Brian grimaced as he slumped further on the couch, trying to will his mouth to begin salivating to relieve the dryness. “You’re dead. You don’t exactly have any room to be complaining about where I live.”

“And yet, for someone who is dead, I think I’m doing pretty damn good,” Nick grinned and propped his hands behind his head. “Yeah, never better. I’m still fucking hot as Hell, too. It’s okay, you can admit you’re jealous.”

“Suddenly I’m a Ghost Whisperer,” Brian muttered to himself. His hands rested limply on his lap, eyes cloudy with a drug and alcohol induced haze. “I’m sitting here talking to my dead brother...who I killed a year ago...who tried to kill me...who killed my wife-”

“Actually…” Nick interjected with a wince. “If you wanna talk semantics, it wasn’t  **_me_ ** who killed Leighanne. It was an asshole named Diego who did the deed and I killed him when I found out about it.”

Brian’s mind floated in and out of focus as Nick’s voice invaded his thoughts. His brother was right about that much, at least according to what AJ had told Brian a few weeks after he had moved back to Kentucky. The last guy, someone by the name of Elias, from deep within Nick’s inner circle had been apprehended the night Club Kaos was raided. It had taken a while to get him to crack and start talking, but when he did, AJ had been sickened by everything he learned and refused to even tell Brian the majority of it. But for whatever reason, AJ had made sure to tell him that Nick hadn’t been the one to physically cause the accident that had taken Leighanne’s life but he  **_had_ ** ordered the hit, only to kill Diego in cold blood when he found out the extent of what took place.

As if knowing that was supposed to make Brian feel any better…

“Fuck your semantics,” Brian grumbled in his direction. “And...fuck you.”

“Yeah, I guess I deserve that…” Nick snorted. When Brian didn’t respond, he reached over and nudged him in the ribs. “You’re a shitty addict, you know that? Clearly you don’t know what the Hell you’re doing.”

Brian fumbled to push his hand away. “You would know.”

“I was fucked up, Brian. I know that. And I did  **_a lot_ ** of drugs on top of all of the drinking I was doing,” Nick nodded in response. “That probably accounted for most of the shit I ended up doing. I mean, yeah, I was always screwed up to some extent because of my biological parents, but I didn’t get deep into shit until I started hitting the hard stuff. Then I got in too deep and maybe I didn’t know how to get out before it was too late…”

“I could have helped you,” Brian slurred once again, his eyes resting shut. He began to slump forward and Nick shifted to ease him down onto his back on the couch. “I could have helped you out of the mess before you were in too deep. I hate you…”

“You should hate me…” Nick sighed, sitting on the edge of the coffee table.

“I wanted...” Brian felt himself losing his grip on his state of awareness and somewhere in the muddled mess of his mind, he wondered if maybe taking two Vicodin had been a bad decision. “I could have saved you…”

“You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved, brother…”

Brian wanted to tell Nick he was wrong about that, that maybe if only he had tried harder, he would have been able to get Nick the help he needed before it was too late. But Brian drifted into the black void before he could formulate the response until he was aware no more.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

  
  


“It’s about time you showed up!”

Ashley Crawford felt the blush of embarrassment creep into her cheeks as she hurried in through the back door of Crawford’s Coffee Co. and found herself face to face with her older sister Rachel’s rather impatient and inquisitive stare. “Sorry…” she mumbled, hoping to convey her apology by her glance alone as she shrugged out of the light knit cardigan she was wearing. Ashley hung it up on one of the hooks on the wall just to the left of the door and turned back to face her sister with a flustered huff. “I know...I know. I’m late. But the ladies at church were particularly chatty today and the class ran a little...over?”

Rachel’s brow rose as her sister quickly stepped past her in search of her barista’s apron and took note of the younger woman’s fidgety nature in that moment in time. “Well, that’s why **_you_** volunteered to teach the elderly women’s painting class at Porter,” she mused, fighting her grin. “Because we both know that out of the two of us, **_you_** have the patience to deal with the grandmothers of our church, who for some reason adore you. If only they knew…”

“Funny…” Ashley huffed again, fumbling to secure the straps of the apron at the small of her back. “I’ll have you know that I’m the all American granddaughter next door, thank you very much. It’s not my fault that they all want to adopt me.” She continued her way through the back of the business, gathering her long ebony hair into a messy bun atop her head as she moved. “Besides, the  **_only_ ** reason I had to volunteer is because I lost that bet. So-” Stopping at the door that led out into the main area of the coffee house, Ashley smirked at her sister. “-You’re welcome.”

“The joys of being an honest woman.” Rachel rolled her eyes and nudged her sister forward through the doorway. “And, honestly, let's be truthful here. You were practically jumping on the opportunity for an excuse to dive into your art more. So, really...don’t act like you’re not secretly enjoying it.”

Shrugging, Ashley knew her sister was right. She  **_had_ ** practically jumped on the opportunity to volunteer after all and there was no denying that the elderly ladies of Porter Memorial Baptist church were good company. Art  **_was_ ** her first love, but she just didn’t have as much time for it anymore like she used to. Life, including single parenthood and an extremely popular coffee house to co-run, made leisurely activities nearly impossible to enjoy these days. Maybe Ashley had purposely lost that bet between her and Rachel weeks before, but it’s not like she would ever admit to it.

Entering the main area of the coffee house a moment later, Ashley took notice of the quiet atmosphere with a sigh of relief. She had worried she wouldn’t arrive in time to help with the mid-morning rush, but with only a few customers occupying the room, Ashley knew she had managed to make it prior to the madhouse they knew was coming. It was only a matter of time. Ashley turned to Rachel, tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear. “Did Emma behave while I was gone?”

As if on cue, a bundle of energy came racing towards the two women with a squeal of delight, loose honey blonde curls bouncing and accentuating a toothy grin. “Mommy! You’re back!” the child declared with a giggle before she wrapped her arms tightly around Ashley’s waist. “Auntie Ray Ray let me help with the cookies and I even got to help the customers! I’m replacing you. You’re fired.”

“Is that so?” Ashley responded with a barely withheld laugh as she smoothed her hand along her five year old daughter’s hair. She kneeled in front of the child, tapping the smear of chocolate at the corner of Emma’s mouth. “I suspect you may have spent more time enjoying the cookies than giving them to the customers.”

“I’m the taste tester!” Emma responded proudly before shifting her curious glance up at her aunt. “Right, Auntie Ray Ray? That’s what you said. Tell Mommy.”

“I said no such thing,” Rachel answered her with a wink that told the child otherwise. “Sugar ‘em up and send ‘em home. That’s my motto.”

“Except Auntie seems to conveniently forget that we all live at the same house.” Ashley laughed softly at her sister’s expense and ushered Emma over to her designated table where all of her belongings were messily spread out, including a half eaten breakfast sandwich and a nearly empty cup of hot chocolate which was most certainly ice cold by now. “Behave, sweets. Abby should be here soon to pick you up.”

“We’re going to the zoo!” Emma exclaimed as she slid onto the chair and refocused her attention on the video that was quietly playing on her tablet.

“Sure are…” Ashley sighed in response and turned from her daughter to find Rachel staring at her closely. She frowned, looking back at her oddly. “What?”

“You okay this morning?” Rachel asked, following her over behind the counter.

Ashley began to busy herself by washing her hands. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she muttered quickly, but when it became apparent that her answer wasn’t satisfactory, she sighed again. “What? I said I’m fine.”

Rachel turned her nose up before turning from her. “Hmmm, okay,” she shrugged her sister off, expecting a quick sarcastic retort to come her way. It never came, though, and Rachel glanced back at her. “You’re lying and I know it. So, spill it, because we’re looking to have a busy day today and if you need to get something off your chest, now would be the time to do it. Plus, we’ve got that kid coming in today to start his community service. Remind me whose idea it was again to register with the court as an acceptable option for people to do community service?”

“Yours, actually,” Ashley told her sister pointedly.

“Right,” Rachel grimaced, only to plaster a sickeningly sweet smile on her face as she focused on the customer who approached the counter, an elderly man who was a daily regular. “Morning, Cal. The regular?” The man politely nodded his agreement and Rachel entered the order into the POS system, speaking over her shoulder while Ashley began to prepare Carl’s regular—large cup dark house roast, black, and a blueberry scone. “I’m just saying...to make sure you remembered...that you said you would be the one to show the kid the ropes. He’s got 200 hours to get through, so he’ll be with us for a while.”

Ashley’s brows furled. “I didn’t-“ she started to say and instantly took notice of the knowing smirk on her sister’s face. “Damnit, Rachel Crawford, what did you sign me up for now?”

“Well, geez, when you put it  **_that_ ** way…” Rachel huffed. She handed Cal his items and offered him a friendly wink as he turned to shuffle his way towards the nearest table. He was a kind old man, albeit lonely after being widowed for twenty years. Rachel kind of pitied him and even appreciated their long chats when business was slow and she actually found herself with a moment to sit and socialize with a cup of coffee of her own. Not that she needed an excuse to ingest copious amounts of the drink; Rachel did plenty of that throughout the day. If she wasn’t serving it, she was drinking it.

Finalizing the sale in the POS system, Rachel turned to lean back against the edge of the counter and crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s one time and I took the last one under my wing. Not my forte. If it’s not coffee related, I kinda want to kill it.”

“You do realize you have an unhealthy obsession...right?” Ashley stated,, pinning her bottom lip between her teeth. She knew her sister was joking more or less and that Rachel had a heart of gold when it came to everything and everyone, but the last thing Ashley really wanted to worry about doing right then was babysitting some bratty teenager who refused to stay out of trouble. Any other time and she would have been the first to jump on the bandwagon, but at that particular moment in time, she had far more pressing matters weighing on her mind. She had forgotten...truly forgotten that Rachel had received the call a week prior that they would be bringing on a teenager who had a hefty amount of community service hours to work through. And so, Ashley relented with a groan and waved Rachel off. “Fine, whatever. But you owe me.”

“I’ve given you a roof and four walls. What more could I possibly owe you?” Rachel countered with a cheeky grin.

The coffee house exploded with life shortly after the conversation fizzled into the void and steadily remained that way for two hours before the rush began to calm. After Ashley had served the last customer waiting in line, she sank against the edge of the counter with a sigh and rested her head in her hands. Abby, one of Ashley’s dearest friends, had arrived to pick Emma up in the middle of the rush, but it had been so busy that Ashley barely noticed her daughter’s parting until it clicked in her brain that the five year old was actually gone. Apparently she wouldn’t be returning until some time the following day, either.

It was a nice unexpected break, Ashley supposed, one she wasn’t concerned about in the least because she trusted Abby as much as Emma loved her like she was actually another aunt whose sole purpose was to spoil the child senseless. It helped that Abby had been in both of their lives since before Emma was born. The fact that their paths had even crossed in the first place had been a matter of happenstance at its finest, and Ashley was grateful for the younger woman, so damn grateful, because she truly didn’t know what she would do without her. Their stories were the same, save for the age difference, and it just so happened that Abby’s son Caleb was a mere day older than Emma. Caleb was the only chance at having a sibling that Emma would ever have.

The bell above the entrance door to the coffee house jingled to life as the door opened and Ashley managed to wearily lift her head from her hands to watch as an elderly woman she recognized from the church entered with a mopey teenager with a head full of blonde curls following close behind. Ashley straightened her posture immediately to greet the woman as she approached, a friendly smile gracing her face. “Mornin’, Mrs. Littrell,” she said, glancing briefly at the teenager who scowled at her in return. “Here for your usual?”

“Oh, no, not this morning, dear,” Jackie Littrell answered her kindly before placing her hand against the teenager’s back. “I won’t be staying. Today is a busy day. I’m just here to drop my grandson off to begin his community service obligations. This is Baylee and he’s looking forward to being of assistance to you and Rachel. His father, along with Harold and I, are very grateful that you and Rachel agreed to take Baylee on to fulfill the requirements of his sentencing. It’s comforting to know he’ll be in good hands here.”

“Right, yes, of course,” Ashley nodded sheepishly. She returned her attention to Baylee, hoping to make eye contact. “It’s really nice to meet you, Baylee. I think you’ll like it here.”

“Whatever…” Baylee muttered under his breath as he shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans.

Jackie shook her head, fighting her frown. “Don’t let this boy’s gruff exterior fool you,” she stated, still focused on her grandson, though it seemed he was doing everything he could to avoid her stare. “His bark is worse than his bite. Once you get past that, you realize he’s not half as bad as he likes to portray himself to be, even if he  **_does_ ** forget it sometimes.” That’s all it took to bring Baylee’s glance of annoyance in her direction. “Now you listen to me, young man. I don’t want to hear about you giving any trouble during your time here, you understand?”

Baylee’s cheeks lit with heat and he looked down at his feet, mumbling a quiet, “Yes, ma’am…”

“On second thought-” Jackie spoke up again as she turned back to Ashley. “I’ll take one of those blueberry scones. You know how much Harold enjoys them.”

Ashley grabbed a scone to package it and then handed it across the counter to Jackie. “On the house.”

Baylee waited until his grandmother had exited the coffee shop before he chose to address Ashley. When he turned towards her, his expression was just as annoyed and now a little spiteful. “Just so you don’t get any ideas, you and I aren’t friends.”

“Obviously,” Ashley huffed in return, making no effort to hide the smirk of her amusement that curled at the corners of her mouth. “That would just be weird, because you’re practically still a baby. But, that doesn’t change the fact that while you’re here, I am your boss. Do with that as you will, depending on how easy or hard you want to make this on yourself. Won’t matter none to me.” She turned from the teen and motioned for him to follow her as she made her way towards the back where Rachel was currently prepping pastries to be baked. “C’mon, we don’t have all day.”

“She was lying, y’know,” Baylee snapped as he followed in her wake. “I’m  **_not_ ** happy to be here.”

“Really? Your fuzzy personality had me convinced otherwise.” Ashley rolled her eyes, cursing Rachel lightly in her head and led Baylee over to the washing station that was currently stacked with piles of dirty dishes neither she or Rachel had had time to get to. “Welcome to Hell,” she chuckled, glancing over her shoulder at the teen’s bewildered stare. “Well, what are you waiting for? Those dishes aren’t gonna wash themselves.”

  
  


◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️

  
  


Two days.

Brian hadn’t slept in two days, save for an hour here and there when he couldn’t physically keep his eyes open any longer. But it never lasted for long and usually ended up with him startling himself awake with a heart hammering so hard, it made Brian’s chest ache. That was mostly because every time he closed his eyes, he was haunted by the ghastly image of his dead brother. Nick would simply just stand there looking at him, silent, emotionless, unblinking, until Brian pried his eyes open.

It had been that way ever since Brian had experienced the drug and alcohol induced hallucination of his brother the prior Friday that left him damn near comatose well into the early evening hours of the following day. When he had finally come to still sprawled out on the couch and covered head to toe in a cold sweat, Brian did everything he could to push the memory out of his mind, to forget about the twisted joke his clouded mind had played on him.

The combination of whiskey and Vicodin had been a bad idea…

Losing an entire day’s worth of time had been weird to come to terms with and left Brian shaken at the thought that he could have possibly been teetering on the brink of no return without even realizing it. He didn’t even know how much time had passed until he found his phone and realized the multitude of missed calls and texts he had received from his parents and his older brother. The last text received had been from his brother Harry staying if he didn’t hear from Brian soon, he would be on his way to break down the door just to check on him. Brian had groaned in annoyance at the thought and promptly text Harry back to insist he was fine before making a call to his parents to tell them the same. Although, they had been a little harder to convince and didn’t as easily buy into the excuse that Brian had been sleeping all day due to illness.

It was entirely a lie…

...It just wasn’t the full truth.

Brian spent the rest of the weekend nursing the fall out from what he had taken. The smell of Jack Daniels lingered in the air from where the liquor had soaked into the carpet and left him sick to his stomach. Food hadn’t even been an option, something he’d quickly learned after the food he ate immediately came back up. It wasn’t until mid-way through Sunday afternoon that Brian began to feel normal again, and even then, about the only energy he had was to remain in bed and just sleep, slipping in and out of one nightmare after another.

His phone began to ring shortly after eight that morning, startling Brian out of the same nightmare that had been plaguing him every night for the past year. The realty company had received his inquiry about the old Queen Anne Victorian and was excited to meet with him for a showing. Apparently not much interest had been shown for the place, a surprising fact considering how valuable the property appeared to be. Either way, it worked out in Brian’s favor and the realty company scheduled a realtor to meet with him later that afternoon.

Brian spent his morning numbly driving around Lexington, stopping for a light breakfast at a small diner before visiting one of the local parks where he spent the next couple of hours walking to try to clear his mind. But the heat had proven stifling and uncomfortable as the day wore on and eventually Brian retreated back to the air conditioning inside of the Land Cruiser, navigating it to a stand still outside of the towering Queen Anne Victorian long before his scheduled walk through. Anywhere was better than going back to the emptiness at the apartment.

The historical house was even more breathtaking in person; the picture had certainly done it very little justice, but it was obvious just how much care it would take to bring it back to its original majestic state. Starting with a fresh coat of paint--the white paint had been stained nearly grey over the years--to hopefully bring some life back into the structure. The trimming was a God-awful shade of green that stuck out like a sore thumb, too. Although, Brian found himself particularly awestruck by the grand wrap around porch that was impossible to ignore. That alone with its intricately carved banisters would need nothing more than maybe some sanding, a few board replacements, and a light coating of paint.

Leighanne would have loved this house…

Brian smiled a little ruefully at the thought as he sunk back into the driver’s seat and continued to stare out through the window at the house. They had discussed several times over the years about taking on a project like this at some point, once Baylee had a steady life of his own and they were a little closer to retirement. It was the character of the architectural style that attracted them both, a far cry different from the modern-esque mansion they had chosen together. God, if Leighanne could only see the place, Brian knew she would already have plans forming for it before they even toured the property. Leighanne had a way of seeing the hidden potential in things when others couldn’t.

The familiar ache of regret returned to clench within Brian’s stomach.

Just as he sighed and shut his eyes to ward off an unexpected burning of tears, a timid knocking on the driver’s side window had Brian jumping in the seat with a yelp of surprise before he turned his attention to find a slender brunette standing outside of the Land Cruiser where he had parked it curbside. Feeling a little foolish as his heart continued to hammer, Brian rolled the window down part way. “I’m sorry, can I help you?”

“Mr. Littrell?” the woman questioned knowingly.

“...Yes?” Brian almost hesitated to answer.

She smiled warmly and extended her hand through the opening in the window. “Shannon Porter, Aspen Realty. I’m sorry for startling you.”

Brian slowly took the woman’s hand and gave it a short timid shake. “It’s alright. My thoughts had gotten away with me, I suppose,” he muttered and yanked the keys out of the ignition before opening the driver’s door to slide out. Fighting a grimace towards the heat, Brian righted himself on his feet. “Thanks, for uh, finding time to meet with me today. I know it was a bit last minute. I just saw the ad in the paper this past Friday and, well, I couldn’t get it out of my head.”

“Hardin House has been known to have that charm,” Shannon told him with an understanding wink as she motioned for him to follow her along the path up to the front porch. “Will we be waiting for the missus this afternoon?”

“No, my wife passed a year ago,” Brian answered her distractedly as the heat crept into his cheeks, allowing his eyes to sweep over every detail of the outside of the house that he could see.

Shannon pursed her lips together for a moment. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Mr. Littrell,” she said, stopping them at the bottom of the stairs leading up the porch. “I saw your wedding band and I assumed- I shouldn’t have assumed. I apologize.”

“No apologies needed,” Brian mumbled dismissively as he brought his attention back to her. “You said this house has been known for its charm?”

“That’s correct,” Shannon nodded.

“I can see why…” Brian shoved his hands in his jean pockets. “Who I spoke to earlier mentioned it had been on the market for a while? I have to admit that is a little hard to believe. What’s the catch?”

“The catch?” Shannon appeared a bit taken aback by his question, but when she realized he meant it out of pure curiosity, Shannon afforded a tight smile. “To be completely honest,” she continued and nodded for them to continue up onto the porch. “As you are aware, this house is for sale by owner. It was named after Mr. Hardin’s family who had it built. It’s been passed down through the generations. In fact, Mr. Hardin himself was born and raised here.”

They stopped at the front door and Brian frowned slightly. “Then...why sell?”

“Age, I’m afraid,” Shannon told him as she proceeded to enter the code into the lock box to retrieve the key. “Mr. Hardin is very elderly and was moved into a nursing facility this past year. He has no family in the area and no children to pass the property on to. Mrs. Hardin passed several years back. So...he really has no one.”

Brian followed the realtor inside, only to stop abruptly with a breath that caught in his throat as he took in the interior of the foyer. It had a high ceiling that caused their voices to echo upward due to the obvious lack of furnishings around them and was accompanied by an impressive three tiered staircase composed of luxuriously dark mahogany wood stairs leading up to the second level. It didn’t take much imagination to see the house was brimming with potential, waiting to come back to life.

Running a hand through his hair, Brian tilted his head back to look up at the magnificent crystal chandelier that hung from the high ceiling. “What’s the square footage?”

“Just over thirty two hundred,” Shannon answered him. “Spanning over all levels.”

“With all due respect, Ms. Porter…” Brian glanced at the realtor. “How has this place  **_not_ ** sold?”

“Ah, the catch you’re looking for,” Shannon chuckled and motioned for him to follow her through a doorway into another room just off the side of the foyer—a cozy little sitting room. Brian could also see it doubling as an office space. “I’ll admit, we have had plenty of offers made on this house. Mr. Hardin is, however, how should I put it...hard to please? Or perhaps stubborn is more accurate. He’s turned down every offer made so far.”

Brian released a dry chuckle as he wandered out of the sitting room, across the hallway, and stepped into the living room. “And now is the point in time you warn me that I am wasting my time?” he mused.

Shannon lingered in the doorway to the living room. “Mr. Hardin is ready to sell,” she answered.

It wasn’t exactly a direct answer to his question, but Brian nodded nonetheless and allowed the realtor to proceed with the walk through. They toured the kitchen next. Brian half listened as Shannon pinpointed all of the aesthetically pleasing details and when they made their way upstairs a short time later, he couldn’t recall a majority of what she’d said. Brian’s mind had drifted elsewhere, to a place where he imagined Leighanne touring the house with him, more enthusiastic with each room they saw.

_ “It’s perfect, love,” _ Brian imagined Leighanne saying with a smile that would steal his attention away from the matter at hand.  _ “All it needs is the right touch to bring it back to life.” _

“I’ll take it,” Brian blurted a short time later as they stood in the middle of the vacant master bedroom. Shannon blinked in shock, obviously caught off guard in the middle of a statement she had been making. Brian shook his head and managed a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry. What I meant to say is I would like to make an offer on this house.”

“But there is still plenty more to show you, Mr. Littrell…” Shannon started to say.

“I’ve seen enough,” Brian insisted in return. “Please inform Mr. Hardin that I offer to buy this house, paid in full up front, plus closing costs and any other fees associated with the sale. I want-” The ringing of his phone interrupted Brian before he could finish his declaration. “I apologize. Hold that thought,” he stated as he pulled the device out of his pocket and saw his mother’s name and number on the screen. He stepped away, turning his back. “Mom? Hey, I’m a little busy right now. Can I call you back in a few? ...Right now?” Brian glanced down at his watch. “Can’t you call Harry? ...Yes, Mom, I know Bay is my son, but- ...No, you’re right. I’ll go pick him up. What’s the name of the place? ...Okay, okay, yeah, I got it.”

“Is everything okay, Mr. Littrell?” Shannon questioned when he turned back to her.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, but I need to go pick my son up,” Brian explained as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. “It’s...a complicated situation. I do appreciate your time this afternoon. But please submit my offer to Mr. Hardin. Whatever he requires, I will do it.”

“Of course,” Shannon told him enthusiastically, following him back down the stairs. “We’ll be in touch soon, Mr. Littrell.”

Brian left the house without another word and quickly got back into the Land Cruiser. By the time he came to a stop in a parking spot outside of Crawford’s Coffee Co. twenty minutes later, his racing mind had slowed enough that he was able to begin processing the magnitude of what he had just done. Nothing was set in stone of course unless his offer was accepted, but he had  **_actually_ ** submitted an oral offer for a historical house he knew very little about and had done so rather seriously. The picture in the ad had caught Brian’s attention, but actually seeing the house in person and stepping inside, left him captivated.

And yet, now that Brian had a moment to sit and think about it, he thought he was absolutely nuts.

AJ sure would get a kick out of this one if it all came together…

...Then again, Brian half expected his friend to show up on his doorstep as soon as he found out. Maybe seeing a familiar face wouldn’t be so bad after all. As he slid out of the vehicle, Brian made a mental note to reach out to AJ sometime soon and finally extend the invite for the McLean family to come visit. He knew without a doubt that his parents would love the opportunity to see Ava and Lyric again and Hell, maybe AJ could talk some sense into Baylee.

Brian cringed a few moments later as the bell above the door to the coffee house jingled loudly upon his entrance. He felt a little out of place standing there just inside, glancing timidly around the interior of the building. The atmosphere was warm and homey with the couches, chairs, tables, and over abundance of art decorating the walls no, all a distinct contrast to the canary yellow exterior of the building that had once served as an actual house before being converted into a place of business.

“I’ll be right with you.”

Brian immediately shifted his attention to where he’d heard the voice call out to him. At least he assumed the statement had been intended for him. The only other person in the general vicinity was a college-aged kid waiting impatiently at the counter as the barista preparing his order worked quickly to complete it. All the other patrons of the coffee house were dispersed sporadically throughout the other visible room.

He inhaled a deep breath of the wonderful aromas permeating the air. With his love for coffee, Brian could actually see himself spending some time there, albeit when Baylee wasn’t around, and added the idea to his growing list of mental notes. Eventually, the college kid brushed past Brian in annoyance with his drink in hand and slammed out the door. “Have a great day,” he snorted under his breath.

“What can I get you?”

It took a moment for Brian to realize he had been staring at the door in the wake of the college kid’s departure and wasn’t until he was spoken to again that he snapped to. He stepped up to counter, shaking his head in apology. “Kids these days don’t understand that patience is a virtue,” he mentioned.

“Yeah, well, ungrateful and entitled generation…” the woman behind the counter huffed before forcing a tight smile. “What can I get you?”

Brian’s gaze flitted to the wall behind her to glance over the artistically hand drawn menu. “Oh, um, actually...I’m not here to have anything,” he shrugged a little sheepishly. “I’m here to pick my son up. Baylee...his grandmother dropped him off earlier today for his community service.”

“Oh…” The woman’s eyes widened in realization. She crossed her arms over her chest, nodding slowly as she studied him. “So, you’re  **_the_ ** dad Baylee mentioned.”

At first, Brian wasn’t sure how to respond. He shoved his hands awkwardly into his pockets. “These days, that usually isn’t a good thing.”

“You don’t say…” she laughed softly. “Don’t worry, the only thing he said was that he didn’t want to talk about you. Not that I’m sure why. You seem harmless enough.”

“It’s complicated,” Brian muttered as he looked at the menu again.

“As complicated as your son is?” The woman mused and held out a hand. “I’m Ashley, by the way. My sister Rachel and I own the business.”

Brian took Ashley’s hand into his own to give it a polite shake. He found it surprisingly warm. “Brian.”

“You sure I can’t get you anything, Brian?” Ashley questioned him. “Baylee’s in the back finishing up. He was a good help today. I think he’ll fit in just fine during his time here, once he loosens up his stubborn demeanor.”

“Good luck with that,” Brian chuckled sarcastically.

“Not much of a peach at home either?” Ashley mused again.

“Like I said,” Brian told her. “It’s complicated.”

“Well, Mr. It’s Complicated,” Ashley drawled as she reached for a to-go cup and poured coffee into it. “I mean no disrespect, but...you really look like you could use this right now. No charge. It’s one of our newly imported dark Brazilian brews. Creamer and sugar are behind you on that ledge over there.”

Brian carefully took the cup from her, a little impressed by the strong aroma with nutty undertones that wafted towards his nose. “Let me pay for this. How much?”

“It’s on the house,” Ashley assured him and stepped out from behind the counter. “I’ll go let Baylee know you are here.”

She was gone from sight a moment later, but not before Brian watched her retreating form. Shaking his head and reaching up to rub at his forehead, Brian swallowed a careful sip of the scalding coffee. He was pleasantly surprised by the richly robust flavor that exploded throughout his mouth, enough so that he couldn’t in good conscious leave without leaving some form of payment, no matter what Ashley had said, so he quickly dug his wallet out of his pocket, grabbed some loose bills and tucked them into the tip jar that was sitting near the register.

“What are  **_you_ ** doing here?” Baylee’s irritated voice interrupted Brian’s enjoyment in the moment.

Brian turned towards his son, keeping his expression steady and unfazed by the teen’s tone. “Mamaw and Papa were both busy, so Mamaw asked me to come get you,” he explained and barely glanced over at Ashley where she was lingering in the doorway.

“Whatever,” Baylee grunted and pushed past his father to move in the direction of the door.

“See you tomorrow, Baylee?” Ashley called after him.

“Not like I have a choice!” Baylee threw back over his shoulder before storming out of the coffee house.

Ashley offered Brian a sympathetic smile as his cheeks lit with an embarrassed heat. “Yep, he’s gonna fit in here just fine.”

Brian opened his mouth to apologize, but feeling more like an idiot than anything else, he simply lifted the cup of coffee and nodded at her. “Thanks for the drink,” he mumbled and turned to make his exit.

“Who was that?”

Ashley had just begun to push away from the doorway with a sigh of relief when Rachel approached her from behind. She turned to look at her sister. “Our little protégé’s father,” she huffed and brushed stray hairs away from her face.

“Wait... **_that_ ** was Baylee’s dad?” Rachel clarified, her brows raised.

“You say that like it’s supposed to mean something significant.” Ashley moved back behind the counter to clean up the mess she had created in her haste to get College Kid’s drink made.

“It’s not that,” Rachel responded with a tight shake of her head. “That means he’s Harold and Jackie Littrell’s boy. Harry’s brother.”

“Still not following,” Ashley dismissed, scowling at the mess spreading on the counter as she wiped it down. “You know the Littrells better than I do.”

“From church,” Rachel reminded her. “It didn’t even faze me earlier when you said Jackie dropped Baylee off, but now it makes sense. I’m just saying that I’ve overheard Harold and Jackie talking about their sons a few times. Apparently Brian was some hot shot big city detective before he moved back to Lexington.”

“Are you sure you didn’t mishear what they said?” Ashley mused at her sister over her shoulder. “Because, you know, he didn’t exactly come across as the take the bad guy down kind of type. More like the timid and socially awkward-”

“Apparently, he lost his wife a year ago.” Rachel yanked the soiled rag out of Ashley’s hand and stared at her pointedly. “Stop, I’ll clean this up. You’re only making a bigger mess.”

Ashley started to argue, only to think against it, and hopped up to sit on the edge of a clean section of the counter. She mulled over what Rachel had just said; she had noticed the wedding band Brian had been wearing on his left hand and assumed that- “He lost his wife?”

“Some devastating car accident or other,” Rachel answered with a short nod. “I don’t know all the details. It’s not my business to pry. I’m just saying Baylee makes a little more sense now.”

“I suppose so...” Ashley mumbled, tone distracted as she frowned in thought.

Rachel paused long enough to take a long hard look at her sister. “Okay, seriously, go home. It’s been a long day and obviously something is  **_still_ ** bothering you. Go. I’ll close up shop on my own.”

Ashley made a face. “You’re feeling awfully charitable today…”

“No,” Rachel drawled with a lighthearted sarcastic smile. “Some of us don’t want to be here until after midnight cleaning up more of your messes.”

“Funny,” Ashley rolled her eyes in response and hopped down from the counter. “Alright, fine, I’m going. Not because you told me to, but because I’m just as much the boss in this joint as you are, so I can do whatever I want.”

“Pick up something for dinner on your way home!” Rachel called after her without missing a beat.

“Mhmm…” Ashley mumbled under her breath as she weaved her way towards the back of the coffee house, untying her barista’s apron from around her waist as she moved. Rachel was right about the fact that something was still bothering her, only now, thoughts of what Brian and Baylee had gone through were thrown into the mix and it made her want to get as far away from the coffee house as fast as she could. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

  
  


Zephyr Hills Nursing Home, a quiet sprawling single-story facility that was located just on the outskirts of the heart of Lexington.

Brian felt a little awkward parked outside the building, about as awkward as he had felt several days prior when receiving the call from Shannon Porter of Aspen Realty informing him that Mr. Hardin wanted to meet with him regarding the house. It had been several weeks since the walk through and after hearing nothing when he expected to, Brian had all but put the house out of his mind. Shannon  **_had_ ** said that Mr. Hardin had turned down every offer so far, so why would Brian have any more of a chance than any of the others?

But Shannon had been insistent that Mr. Hardin was adamant about meeting with Brian face to face. She knew the request was a bit out of the ordinary and assured him it would be understandable if he chose to retract his offer, though Brian had quickly agreed to the meeting before he even realized the words were coming out of his mouth. After all, what would it hurt to entertain a lonely old man with a short visit, especially if it worked out in Brian’s favor in the end?

Surprisingly enough, the faculty at Zephyr Hills had been expecting Brian’s call. They were pleased about the prospect of Mr. Hardin finally having another visitor for the first time in a long while, almost as if they expected Brian’s presence to become a regular occurrence, even though he tried to tell them otherwise. To Brian, it was just an investment meeting, a necessary step in his effort to start rebuilding his life. Although, he figured Leighanne would have had a field day with the opportunity; it made him wish like Hell she was there to go with him.

The mid-morning air was a sticky muggy mess under a thick grey cloud covering. Jackie had told him early that morning when she’d called to check on him that the forecast was calling for rain and quite possibly a decent thunderstorm before the day was over. In fact, she told Brian to be careful if he ventured out, as if he hadn’t been driving for thirty years and up until a year ago hadn’t been living in a city far larger than Lexington where the traffic was far worse than anything his mother was used to.

Jackie had been less than amused when Brian laughed in response.

Brian slid out of the Land Cruiser with a deep breath in hopes that it would help to boost his confidence as he made his way up to the door of the nursing home. Inside was a warm and welcoming atmosphere that drew him in further, straight up to the receptionist sitting behind the counter inside the lobby. He managed a light, albeit somewhat awkward, smile when the young woman looked up to greet him.

“Hi, good morning,” he started with an almost nervous chuckle. “Um...to be completely honest, I’m really not sure where to go from here. I’m supposed to be visiting a Mr. Hardin this morning?”

The receptionist’s eyes brightened considerably when he spoke and she sat up straighter, reaching for a clipboard that was on the counter. “This is the visitor’s log,” she explained with an enthusiastic nod. “Sign in on the next line and I’ll need to see a photo I.D.”

Brian reached into his back pocket, removing his wallet and offering over his driver’s license before signing his name, date, and time.

“Mr. Hardin is looking forward to his visit with you today,” the receptionist continued as she handed Brian’s driver’s license back over to him. “It’s nice to see some excitement in his eyes. He hasn’t had a real visitor since he became a resident here. We greatly appreciate and value the company our residents receive.”

Brian returned his wallet to his back pocket. “It’s true he has no family remaining?”

“None that we’re aware of,” the receptionist shrugged. “He only ever speaks of his late wife, that is whenever he does speak. Mr. Hardin mostly just keeps to himself in his room.”

Brian’s mouth opened to comment on the receptionist’s statement, but he chose to let the words fall short instead and watched as the woman lifted the phone receiver to her ear, speaking quietly to whoever was on the other end to inform them of Brian’s arrival. It was a short conversation that had her telling him someone would be out shortly to fetch him once she was finished. Brian nodded his thanks and paced away from the counter.

Not even five minutes later, Brian found himself ushered down an adjacent hallway by a male orderly who made no effort to establish small talk. They stopped outside a closed door with a name plaque that read “D. Hardin” and Brian was told to wait in the hallway as the orderly excused himself inside the room. Brian couldn’t help but muse over the thought that at one point he had been at the top of his game as a well respected detective and then just over a year later, he now found himself standing in the hallway of a nursing home, waiting to visit with some potentially bat shit crazy old man who may or may not decide to accept Brian’s offer to buy his house.

God forbid Brian hadn’t just went straight through a realtor to find a house like any other sensible person would have done in his situation. A bottle of Jack, two Vicodin, and an awkward conversation with the ghost of his dead brother later…

Brian’s eyes shifted back to the name plaque on the door with a scoff just before it opened again and the orderly stepped out.

“Have fun with this one,” he muttered and turned to make his way down the hallway without another word.

Brian watched him go before he allowed himself into Mr. Hardin’s room of residence with a timid knock against the door frame. It took only a moment to notice the frail old man sitting in a wheelchair at the window across the room. Brian cleared his throat when he failed to turn, considering the idea that maybe he just hadn’t heard him. “...Mr. Hardin?”

“Don’t just stand there,” came the gruff reply. “And shut that door. You’re letting a draft in.”

Wanting to ask him what draft he was talking about, Brian did as he was told and slowly shut the door to the room. “Is there anything I can get you right now?”

“Are you one of those orderlies that don’t seem to know the difference between up and down?” When Brian didn’t respond, Mr. Hardin turned his head to focus his tired eyes on the younger man. “No, you ain’t. And I didn’t ask you here to be waiting on me hand and foot. Got plenty of people here doing that daily.”

“My apologies…” Brian chuckled sheepishly and slowly made his way over.

“Your Mama and Daddy raised you right,” Mr. Hardin stated when Brian reached him, nodding to the unoccupied chair that had been set opposite of him. “It’s called manners. Something these younger generations don’t seem to understand. Now sit. What’s your name, boy?”

Brian lowered himself into the chair, silently wondering what the Hell it was he was getting himself into. “Brian Littrell, sir,” he answered, extending his hand with uncertainty.

“You call me Dave,” Mr. Hardin told him stiffly while contemplating his outstretched hand. “Don’t be starting with that sir and mister nonsense. Makes an old man feel older and these old bones of mine give me plenty of reminders of my age every day.”

“I like to think you’re only as old as you allow yourself to feel,” Brian stated thoughtfully.

“Well,  **_that’s_ ** a load of horse shit,” Mr. Hardin chuckled in return, but at least his voice had lightened and was just this side of friendly. “Tell that to these old legs that don’t work properly the way they used to.”

Brian watched him absently pat his thigh and found himself understanding more clearly why Mr. Hardin was sitting in a wheelchair. Shifting in the chair, Brian leaned for a little and clasped his hands in front of him. “Most wouldn’t fondly refer to the aging process as pleasant. Necessary, unfortunately, but…”

“What do you know about growing old?” Mr. Hardin inquired with a sharply cocked brow. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking Brian up and down. A gravelly chuckle bubbled up his throat as he shook his head. “Boy, you can’t be no older than forty.”

“Forty six, actually…” Brian corrected, his grin a little sheepish.

“Huh…” Mr. Hardin sat back in the wheelchair, surprised. “I suppose my eyes are going, too. I was hoping they would last me until I reached a hundred.” He shook his head, almost forlornly, and nodded to Brian’s left hand. “That’s an impressive and mighty fine band you have on your finger there. How long have you and the missus been married?”

“I, uh…” Brian immediately looked down at the thick wedding band he still wore on his left ring finger. Even after all this time, he couldn’t find it in himself to take it off, as if doing so would dishonor Leighanne’s memory. Not to mention, the thought of feeling and seeing his finger bare made him sick with regret. He’d been wearing that ring for two decades. Considering the idea of removing it was just too hard of a pill to swallow. “My wife passed a little over a year ago…”

“That’s not what I asked,” Mr. Hardin countered as he turned his gaze out the window. His attention seemed to drift, whether on a memory or a lack of cognizance, Brian wasn’t sure at first. “My Leah passed going on a decade ago. Let me tell you something...it has been the loneliest decade of my life. Family’s all gone and no kids to look after me. Leah was all I had. All I ever knew. We met on the first day of our freshman year of highschool. I took one look at her and said, “I’m gonna marry you someday.” And then I kissed her, right there, middle of the hallway.”

Brian blinked in surprise. “That was, uh...well, that was a bold move. What’d she do?”

Mr. Hardin returned his attention to him with a mischievous grin. “Slapped me right across the face in front of all my friends.”

Hissing inwardly, Brian winced as he tried to fight his amusement. “But she still ended up marrying you.”

“Of course she did,” Mr. Hardin huffed, although his grin remained. “That’s the irresistible Hardin charm. Never fails. We’ve been married seventy seven years this coming December.”

“I...I’m not sure I understand,” Brian drawled in thought. “You said your wife passed-”

“Going on a decade ago, yes.” Mr. Hardin nodded and ran a hand over the barely there tuft of pure white hair atop his head. “Cancer of the lung took her from me and she ain’t ever smoked a day in her life. How’s that for irony?”

Brian frowned. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Hardin...”

“ **_Dave_ ** ,” Mr. Hardin corrected him. “I ain’t my daddy, so don’t you be calling me so. Poor bastard’s been dead and gone since my twenty-fifth year, God rest his soul.” Sighing, he offered Brian a weathered expression. “If you could be so kind as to humor an old man and let's get on a first name basis. It’d be kindly appreciated.”

“My sincerest apologies,” Brian relented.

“Now, answer me this,” Mr. Hardin continued. “Have you ever stopped loving your wife since she’s been gone?”

“No, sir,” Brian whispered without hesitation and without thinking about how he was addressing him.

“That’s because love doesn’t die when someone dies.” Mr. Hardin nodded, his eyes flickering briefly. “So, I’ll ask you again...how long have you and the missus been married?”

Brian inhaled deeply, finding it difficult to formulate the answer. He looked away, creases of stress forming in his forehead “...Twenty one years this September,” he finally mumbled, his voice projecting only loud enough that Mr. Hardin could hear him, in an attempt to keep it steady. Brian cleared his throat and rubbed his hands over his face to keep the tears at bay, managing a weak smile. “Nearly twenty of those years were the best years of my life. Twenty three if you count the years we dated.”

“Isn’t that the point?” Mr. Hardin questioned. “We don’t marry someone out of obligation. We marry because dating isn’t enough, because marriage is intended to be forever. When you know...you know.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Brian agreed.

“God doesn’t make mistakes, boy,” Mr. Hardin firmly stated. Brian wanted to tell him he was wrong, but the old man had turned his attention out the window with a soft frown. “Looks like rain. We should go outside for a walk. Do you mind pushing this old man around?”

When Brian felt Mr. Hardin’s eyes piercing him, he was a bit taken aback. “You want to go outside for a walk when it could start raining at any given moment?”

“Did I stutter?” Mr. Hardin’s mischievous grin returned. He waited as Brian reluctantly rose to his feet and popped the brake pads on each wheel of the chair. “What is it these youngsters say these days...YOLO?”

Brian couldn’t help his chuckle as he began to maneuver the wheelchair towards the door. “I’m not sure they would say that in reference to potentially being caught outside in the rain.”

“Do you have children, Brian?” Mr. Hardin asked him as they made their way down the hallway.

“One son,” Brian answered with a short nod, ignoring the pang of guilt that coursed through his system at the thought of the teen. “Baylee. He’ll be turning nineteen in November.”

“You must be very proud,” Mr. Hardin replied and motioned with a frail hand towards another hallway. “Turn here.”

_ ‘Something like that,’ _ Brian thought to himself. At the end of the new hallway, they came upon a set of double doors that led out into a beautifully landscaped courtyard. A short time later, Brian had settled himself on one end of a crafted stone bench with Mr. Hardin in the wheelchair next to him. “With all due respect, Dave…” he started to say after they had sat there in silence for a while. “I know you didn’t ask me to come here so you could have me talk about my wife and son.”

Mr. Hardin rested his hands lightly upon his lap. “You’re correct, but Leah always did tell me I had a bad habit of being nosy. I like to learn about people. These days, that opportunity is few and far between.”

“You don’t have  **_any_ ** family remaining?” Brian asked him.

Mr. Hardin appeared to contemplate the question. “...A sister who is ten years my junior. Don’t know where she’s at though or if she’s even still alive. We had a falling out some decades back and lost touch. It’s a shame, I suppose.”

Brian glanced at him. “Have you tried looking for her?”

“Leah did at one point, a few years before she passed, but no luck. Unfortunately, it is what it is. You have to understand, Brian...I come from a different generation.”

“I wasn’t born yesterday,” Brian chuckled. “Why  **_did_ ** you ask me to come here to see you?”

Mr. Hardin didn’t answer him right away. Instead, he allowed his gaze to shift around the courtyard as if he was seeing it for the first time, but Brian knew better. “I want to know why you are so interested in buying my house, Brian.”

  
  


◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️

  
  


“Wash up for dinner and come help set the table.”

Brian looked up from where he stood at the stove, stirring the butter and sour cream into a pot of potatoes he had just finished mashing minutes before when his father’s voice rang out from the living room. It wasn’t a moment later that he heard heavy footsteps pounding up the stairs before Harold entered the kitchen and greeted Jackie with a kiss to the cheek who was only a few feet away at the counter, finishing the preparation of a simple dinner salad.

“Something smells good,” Harold grinned and reached to snatch a cherry tomato from the salad bowl, only Jackie was quick to smack his hand away in disapproval.

“You are not touching any of this with those dirty hands, Harold Littrell,” she scolded him with a shallow huff. “You go wash them, right now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Harold chuckled in return and side stepped to the kitchen sink. Tapping the water on, he glanced in Brian’s direction. “Brian.”

Brian afforded his father a small nod of acknowledgment. “How was Bay’s therapy session?”

“He didn’t say,” Harold shrugged in return. “Maybe you should ask him yourself.”

“Yes, because we both know how much Baylee loves to tell me things,” Brian muttered to himself. He reached forward to turn the stove top burner off and lifted the pot of mashed potatoes, only to find both Harold and Jackie staring at him as if he’d grown an extra head or they were expecting him to mouth off some more, or maybe both. “Sorry.”

“When’s the last time you actually tried to talk to him?” Harold began to dry his hands off on a dish towel.

“Before or after the many times he’s told me he hates me since he got in trouble?” Brian chuckled, refraining from allowing the stress of his question to show on his face. He didn’t need to bluntly state it for his parents to know it continues to brotherly him deeply. “I get what you’re trying to say, but it’s not that simple. He wants space and I’m giving it to him.”

“Maybe you’re giving your son  **_too_ ** much space,” Jackie suggested gently and it was clear she had been waiting to make the statement all along, but hadn’t found the perfect moment until Harold returned home. She took the pot of mashed potatoes from Brian and set it upon a hot pad on the counter. “As stubborn as you  **_both_ ** are, it shouldn’t come as a surprise. Baylee is your carbon copy through and through, dear. Have you forgotten this?”

“No, because I have  **_you_ ** to remind me of it every day,” Brian smiled sweetly in return, unable to mask the sarcasm that dripped from his voice.

Jackie rolled her eyes. “That smart mouth of yours will still get you in trouble, Brian Thomas,” she chastised him before retrieving a stack of dishes out of the cupboard. Jackie forced them into Brian’s hands. “Go put these on the table. And these.” She added enough cutlery for the four of them to the top plate.

Brian grinned lightly to himself as he left the kitchen and made his way into the dining room with the dishes and cutlery. Back in the kitchen, Harold asked where Harry was, but Brian paid little attention to the answer Jackie provided regarding his brother’s absence. Harry had intended to join them for dinner that evening, only to back out at the last minute. Something to do with the job his construction team was currently working that was going to keep him later than he anticipated. Brian wasn’t really sure and did his best to avoid inquiring at any point in time because doing so always gave his older brother an excuse to pester him about bringing him onboard with the crew. Working for Harry wasn’t exactly something he was interested in at the moment.

Halfway done with setting up the first place setting at the dining room table, Brian looked up just as Baylee started to walk past the doorway. “Hey, Bub, you mind giving me a hand?” he called out to him.

Baylee stopped abruptly in his tracks, turning an annoyed glance in father’s direction. “You’re not capable of doing it yourself?”

“Whether he is or not, your father asked you to help him,” Jackie told her grandson sternly when she appeared, carrying a bowl that now contained the contents of the pot of mashed potatoes. “Now you do as you’re told and stop giving a fuss.”

“Yes, ma’am…” Baylee grumbled under his breath and reluctantly followed her into the dining room. He grabbed the plate and silverware his father was holding out to him across the table and carefully set it in front of the chair he always sat in.

Brian waited until Jackie had returned to the kitchen before focusing on his son again and handing him another dinner setting. “How was therapy today?” he asked.

Baylee’s eyes snapped up to meet his. “Really? That’s what you wanna ask me?” he chuckled with an astoundingly sarcastic grin. “Bec’s great. She actually listens to me. I think she even gives a damn, too.”

“Good,” Brian nodded in return. “That’s good. I’m glad you’ve found an outlet.”

“No thanks to you,” Baylee snorted. The silverware dropped carelessly from his hand onto the table, showing his lack of concern. “I don’t know why you’re still trying to pretend like you care when you’ve been legally off the hook for weeks. You got your out. So why are you here?”

“At my parents’ house for dinner?” Brian blinked at him, his brows furling. “The last I checked, that wasn’t a crime.”

Baylee rolled his eyes and started to turn from the table. “Apparently neither is abandonment.”

Brian was quick to come around the table to him, reaching out to grab his shoulder. “Hold up. That is not fair, Baylee,” he told him as a conflicting wave of emotion passed over his face. “I have  **_never_ ** abandoned you.”

“Are you kidding me right now?” Baylee’s voice raised as he shoved his father’s hand away out of spite. “That’s all you’ve been doing! And you don’t care because you can’t even see it! You only care about yourself! That’s all you’ve ever cared about!”

“Bay, c’mon,” Brian sighed, reaching up to rub at the dull ache that slowly began to form in his forehead. “Lets not do this right now. I just...I want us to have a nice dinner tonight, as a family. I want to know how your day went. If you’re excited for school to start tomorrow. What I  **_want_ ** is for you to talk to me again.”

“You...it’s always about  **_you_ ** ,” Baylee snapped at him. “About what  **_you_ ** want. You’ve never given a damn about what  **_I_ ** want. Or what  **_Mom_ ** wanted.”

Brian stiffened at the sound of the words rolling off the teen’s tongue. “...Change your attitude...right now.”

Baylee chuckled in an inward fashion. “Fuck you, Brian. You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore. You’re not my dad.”

“Baylee Thomas Wylee Littrell!” Jackie’s voice suddenly gasped in shock.

“Okay…” Brian immediately looked away from his son, barely nodding. He couldn’t fathom the thought of looking back at the disgust on his mother’s face. It wasn’t just about how much Baylee’s words had pained him; it was more of the devastation and betrayal Brian saw in his eyes. And that was because of  **_him_ ** . Clearing his throat, he wet his lips, murmuring another “Okay” just for the sake of saying something before he stepped around Baylee to leave the dining room.

“Where are you going?” Jackie called after him.

“Home,” Brian muttered without skipping a beat.

“He’s leaving, just like he always does!” Baylee loudly accused. “He’s a coward!”

Brian didn’t stick around any longer than it took him to cross the living room to the front door and he heard his mother’s voice shrilly berating her grandson just as he yanked it open. It slammed shut behind Brian, hard enough to knock several framed pictures off the wall inside, but by that point he had stopped listening and he had all but stopped caring. The only thing Brian truly wanted at that moment was to get as far away from his parents’ house as quickly as he could, away from the hatred Baylee had for him, and away from the fact that it didn’t seem to matter what Brian did...his life only continued to fall apart around him.

When he slid into the driver seat of the Land Cruiser, Brian slammed his hands against the steering wheel with a curse of frustration, his eyes burning with a surprising onslaught of tears that threatened to fall. He half expected the front door of the house to slam open and either Harold or Jackie to come storming out to retrieve him, but when it remained shut and became clear that wasn’t going to happen, Brian simply revved the engine and peeled out of his parents’ driveway. He needed air. It felt hard to breathe.

_ “He’s leaving, just like he always does! He’s a coward!” _

His head was killing him, the migraine having come on faster than Brian could have anticipated. As he drove, he reached over to the glove compartment, opened it, and pulled out a small bottle of pills and a flask—his secret reserve. Then again, his whole habit was one big fucking secret, but that was hardly a concern of his. Nor was the fact that Brian knew without a doubt he would be getting an earful from his mother the following day in regards to his abrupt departure.

The pill slid down Brian’s throat easily with a steady stream of whiskey that lasted several seconds. It wasn’t something nearly as strong as the Vicodin he had back at the apartment and truthfully, Brian couldn’t even remember what the medication was called, but what did it really matter? His head was now pounding and it left him dizzy and lightheaded. He just needed  **_something_ ** to take the edge off. Something that would help until he decided where he was going to go.

Brian realized he was in no hurry to retreat to the emptiness of his apartment.

He was in no hurry for much of anything.

Brian shouted a curse, slamming his hands against the steering wheel again as he drove.

“We’re doing this again, huh?”

Yelping in surprise and jumping where he sat as the voice spoke, Brian sharply looked to his right to find Nick sitting in the passenger seat, brows raised curiously. It took all Brian had in him not to slam on the brakes out of reflex. “What the  **_fuck_ ** , Nick?!”

Nick shook his head with a chuckle and turned it to look out the passenger window. “Obviously that’s a yes,” he smirked.

Brian’s mouth parted in a silent stutter as he repeatedly looked between the road ahead and his younger brother casually relaxing in the passenger seat as if that was where he had always naturally belonged. “This...you...what…” Brian managed to sputter brokenly before he reached over to fumble with the glove compartment again. “What the Hell did I just take?!”

“Prescription Naproxen,” Nick shrugged as he offered the answer. “At least, I think that’s what you keep in the car. God forbid you become ballsy enough to keep the big guns in reach while you’re driving, y‘know...since you’ve got such a great pill popping habit.” Nick slowly turned his attention back to Brian to find him staring at him in disbelief. “You should probably watch the road…”

Brian whipped his attention back to the road in front of them just as an oncoming car angrily blared its horn in warning. He barely managed a curse under his breath in his effort to right the vehicle back in its own lane. “There’s no way in Hell this is happening again,” he muttered to himself. “This has to be… No, I must be-”

“Drunk?” Nick finished for him. He shrugged. “I mean, if you’ve got the alcohol tolerance of a three year old. But, let's not kid ourselves here...we both know idiot is the more accurate term.”

Without warning, Brian whipped the Land Cruiser to a screeching halt on the side of the road and jammed the gears into park. “Get out,” he muttered before he managed to find his voice at a louder volume. “For fuck’s sake, Nick! Get out of my car!”

“Geez, dude, don’t go getting your pretty little panties all bunched up in your man-vag.” Within a split second, Nick was standing outside the Land Cruiser on the passenger side, arms crossed over his chest in a brooding manner. It took Brian a moment more before he started to realize he couldn’t recall the passenger door ever opening in the first place and as he frowned, eyes becoming a little clouded with his thoughts, Nick lightly rapped his knuckles against the window. “You just gonna leave me standing here on the side of the road? Or, hey, I got an idea...you sit there while I stand out here and we’ll have one of those stare a bitch down contests because-”

Brian didn’t wait for Nick to finish his statement and tore the vehicle away from the side of the road, sending it barreling down the asphalt. His heart hammered in his chest as Nick’s voice echoed in his mind, as if he had just finished running a marathon, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. His phone began to ring from where Brian had discarded it in the center console, his mother’s name popping onto the screen, but he hastily grabbed the device, turning it off and tossing it into the back seat before bringing the flask back to his lips for another sip.

Brian was losing his mind.

He  **_had_ ** to be losing his mind.

“Well,  **_that_ ** was rude,” Nick commented out of nowhere and when Brian looked over, he found his brother sitting in the passenger seat once again. Their eyes met for a tension-filled moment before Nick nodded to the flask gripped in Brian’s hand, a hand that was now trembling just visibly. “Drinking and driving? Y’know, for someone who used to be in law enforcement, you have a really shitty habit of not following the law. Golden boy, my ass. If only Halverson and Rinard could see you now.”

Brian tried to focus on the road, to divert his thoughts elsewhere...anything to keep him from looking in Nick’s direction again. “I’ve lost my mind,” he thought out loud. “That’s all this is. I’ve finally lost my God forsaken mind.”

“If thinking that will help you sleep better at night…” Nick drawled in response.

“Shut up!” Brian suddenly snapped. He swallowed another hasty swig from the flask, grimacing as it burned going down. “You are just as annoying dead as you were when you were alive!”

Nick let loose a raucous laughter that had Brian scowling in his direction. “Oh, c’mon,” he said, eyes lit with amusement. “I know we were raised on that holier than thou bullshit, and you took it a little more seriously than Harry and I, but you gotta realize just how fucking nuts you sound saying that. Just as annoying dead as when alive? I’m starting to think you’re two steps short of self-checking into the looney bin.” Nick’s laughter quieted considerably. “Speaking of Mom, you know full well she’s gonna kick your ass straight into next week for ignoring her call back there.”

“Why the Hell do you care?” Brian snapped again.

“Who said I cared?” Nick countered. “I’m just stating the obvious. Stop being so damn dramatic.”

“ **_I’m_ ** the one who is being dramatic?” Brian scoffed in disbelief and this time when he brought the vehicle to the side of the road, he eased it to a slow rolling stop. “That’s like the pot calling the kettle black! You’re the one who is  **_dead_ ** ! I  **_know_ ** this because  **_I’m_ ** the one who killed you!”

“Is it really necessary to keep rubbing that in my face?” Nick muttered. “I didn’t ask to be here.”

Brian blinked as he fell into a stupor. “That makes no sense…”

Nick shrugged. “You always  **_were_ ** the one that needed things spelled out in crayon for you.”

“I am not having this conversation with you, because you are  **_not_ ** here,” Brian mustered as he pushed open the driver’s door and slid out of the Land Cruiser. He stumbled slightly when his feet hit the pavement, but righted himself quickly and moved away from the vehicle. “I’ve gone completely insane. That is the only logical explanation for any of this. It has to be. No wonder my kid hates me. My family is ready to disown me. I’m so far from batting a thousand that it’s not even on the horizon anymore. I...am  **_insane_ ** .”

“Actually, what makes you look insane is pacing this street right now, raving like a lunatic while talking to yourself.” Appearing beside Brian, Nick held his hands up in defense when his brother sharply looked at him. “Hey, I’m just saying.”

Brian stared at him a moment longer before continuing along the sidewalk. “Either I’m insane or I actually died in your basement that night and this is my punishment. Eternity in Hell with  **_you_ ** .”

Nick kept in stride with Brian, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jeans. “Okay, for one, I’ll have you know I’m offended,” he said with a snort. “And two, you and I both know Hell is a lot hotter than this shithole.”

“This shithole was your home,” Brian told him. “It was the only real home you had growing up. People actually gave a damn about you. Did you ever give a damn about us?” When Nick didn’t answer, Brian stopped and turned to see that his brother had paused several yards behind him. The expression that passed over Nick’s face was odd and hard to decipher. “Why would I even bother asking? Of course you didn’t give a damn about any of us.”

“That’s not true…” Nick said.

“Right,” Brian scoffed, turning his back to him. “All this time I still keep wanting to believe there was even an ounce of good in you that transcended all the wrong you did. That you could have possibly been inherently good underneath all that shit.” Stopping again, Brian brought the rim of the flask back to his lips, his migraine dulled enough to the point that it was tolerable, and turned towards the looming Queen Anne Victorian just up the walkway. “You weren’t good, Nick. You never were. I was just too damn blind to see it.”

Nick came to stand at his side, shooting a curious glance towards the house. “Then why didn’t you turn your back on me?”

“Because family doesn’t give up on each other!” Brian’s voice echoed around them as he yelled and as much as he winced in response, Nick’s face remained stoic. Sighing, Brian shook his head. “Just go away and leave me the Hell alone. I’ve got enough to worry about as it is.”

“I wish I could,” Nick replied. “But like I said, I didn’t ask to be here.”

“Do me a favor and shove your riddles up your ass, hmmm?” The statement left Brian’s mouth idly and he focused his weary gaze up at the house. The house he was wanting desperately. The house that was practically his after he concluded his visit with Mr. Hardin earlier that day. Brian’s offer to buy had been accepted and now it was a matter of meeting with the realty company to draw up the paperwork and process the transaction so the sale could close.

After all the offers on the house that Mr. Hardin had turned down in the past, he had taken to Brian surprisingly quickly and was almost eager to transfer ownership by the end of their visit. All he asked of Brian in return was to preserve what the generations of his family had built...and to visit him at the nursing home on occasion to keep him updated. Brian had no qualms with the idea of fulfilling an old man’s request for company. Even the staff at the nursing home had been fond of the idea because apparently Mr. Hardin wasn’t known as one to take kindly to company.

It’s not like Brian didn’t have all the time in the world to spare these days…

Somehow, Brian had subconsciously drawn back to the location he hoped to one day make his home. That was if he could ever figure out how to put his life back together. His confidence was quickly waning though, what little bit of it still remained.

“We thinking about breaking in?”

“What?” Brian blinked out of his thoughts with a scowl, but kept his attention focused on the house. “No. Jesus, Nick.”

“...So then, you’re just standing here staring at some random old house because…?” Nick trailed in question.

“It’s my house,” Brian answered him. “I’m buying it. Just...gotta wait for the sale to close.”

Nick snorted. “What the Hell do you need a big house like this for? It’s not like Baylee’s in a hurry to move back in with you.”

“Leigh would have loved it…” Brian murmured just above a whisper.

“You always were the sentimental sensitive type,” Nick shrugged with a smirk. “I dunno...maybe you have lost your mind after all.”

“Think what you want,” Brian told him dismissively. “It’s my life.”

“All I’m saying-“ Nick continued, “-is that maybe you and I are more alike than you think. A person can only take so much before their brain gets overloaded and they reach their breaking point and realize the only thing they can do is give up. Throw in the towel. Say fuck it all, y’know? No one would blame you if you were ready to just...throw in the towel.”

Brian’s eyes were seething as he turned them to Nick. “I am  **_nothing_ ** like you.”

“Says the man who killed his own brother.”

Nick disappeared in the blink of an eye, leaving Brian alone and bewildered to contemplate the thought.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

  
  


Tates Creek High School was nothing like Baylee remembered his old school being back home. At least there, he had had the confidence to walk in with his head held high and was, at the very least, known as royalty in a popular sense. Everyone had known Baylee’s name and everyone had admired him, whether it was from the action he showcased in sports or the vocals he produced in choir. But sports were no longer an option after the accident and his joy for singing seemed to have died right along with his mother. At Tates Creek, Baylee knew no one and everyone let him know it by ignoring the very fact that he existed the moment he stepped foot on campus.

Lacking were the familiar calls of greetings to him from the students that were milling about on the campus lawn, procrastinating to the very last moment until the warning bell sounded to let them know it was time to go inside or they were going to be late to class. When Baylee heard the bell, he ignored it and kept his head down, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, as he slowly made his way across the lawn from the parking lot to go inside. Papa had dropped him off nearly half an hour before to give him plenty of time to become familiar with the school he would be spending his senior year at, but as Harold’s truck had left Baylee curbside, the teen couldn’t push past the sudden breath-taking anxiety that filled his body from head to toe. And so, he had stood there awkwardly, looking around at everyone who seemed to know everyone else but him, contemplating if just leaving would really be worth it.

Until Kevin’s voice echoed in his head to remind him that part of the conditions that would allow Baylee to avoid jail time was that he attend school the way he was expected to, from the start to the finish of the school year, whether he liked it or not.

Baylee sure as Hell  **_didn’t_ ** like it. Anything and everything about becoming a student at Tates Creek made him sick to his stomach. He didn’t know his way around campus. He didn’t know the teachers. He didn’t have any friends. And worst of all, Tates Creek was the same damn high school his father had attended decades before, which according to his grandparents, Brian had been pretty well known around campus. It was so unsettling, that Baylee begged his grandparents to transfer him to a different school out of county because the last thing he wanted was another reminder of just how great everyone thought his father was, to be put in the shadow of Brian Littrell’s name when that very name made Baylee want to vomit.

The school year was going to be  **_Hell_ ** .

“Hey, watch it, asshat!”

Baylee stumbled and damn near lost his footing when someone slammed into him from behind. He lurched forward a little and braced his hand against the wall to the side of the door he was approaching, and with a harsh frown that formed on his face, looked up to take notice of who had just delivered the offensive hit. Some tall, dark haired jock with his arm wrapped around the shoulders of a pretty and petite blonde. Only the pair was already inside before Baylee gathered his wit about him and realized he was still just standing there, dumbfounded, sticking out like a sore thumb as students continued to flood through the doors of the school in their rush to get to class on time.

“You’re new here, aren’t ya…”

Tightening his grip on the strap of his backpack as he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder, Baylee whipped around, firmly in defense mode, and was taken aback by the chuckle that greeted him. It was another student, slightly shorter than the first who had practically just assaulted him, and with short messy sandy blonde hair much like Baylee’s. “Do you mind?” Baylee gruffed at him and yanked his shoulder back.

The student retracted his hand with an amused shake of his head. “Yep, you definitely ain’t from around here.”

“What the Hell is that supposed to mean?” Baylee snapped in return.

“For starters, look around you,” he replied nonchalantly. “It’s pretty damn obvious you’ve never set foot on campus prior to today. Plus, it was kinda hard not to notice you standing on the curb like a deer caught in headlights when you were dropped off. Tell all signs of an implant. Am I wrong? I mean, you practically have a neon sign flashing above your head that’s asking to draw attention to you, which is really the  **_last_ ** thing you want to be doing on your first day.”

“Didn’t realize it was so damn obvious,” Baylee muttered as he turned back around to reach out and open the door.

“It’s not,” the student chuckled, following Baylee inside. “Lucky guess and I’m just an obnoxious nosy asshole a majority of the time. What’s your name, Implant?”

Baylee was staring down at the crinkled piece of paper he’d pulled out of his pocket when the second bell rang overhead, letting him know he was officially late to his first class. “Great...just great,” he muttered with a sigh and shoved the paper back into his pocket. No wonder Papa had brought him early, to prevent him from standing there like the idiot he was with no clue about which direction he was supposed to go.

“The Student Services office is that way.” A hand stretched past him, pointing to a hallway across the expansive lobby and they were moving before Baylee had a chance to respond. “You’re already late, which means I’m late, too. Great way to start the school year, right? Oh well. Might as well show you where you’re supposed to go, Implant. I’m Josh Dempsey, by the way, but everyone around here just calls me JD.”

“Baylee,” came the dismissive muttered reply from the teen’s mouth.

“Y’know, Baylee,” JD mentioned, still amused after they had traveled half way down the hall without saying a word. “If you want to make this year as relatively painless as possible, you should probably think about being a little less standoffish so people don’t have a reason to hate you.”

It took all Baylee had within him not to roll his eyes in annoyance. “I’m not here to make friends,” he said. “If I had it my way, I’d be spending my senior year of high school at any other school but  **_this_ ** one.”

“Not even five minutes in the door and you’re already writing TCH off,” JD chuckled. “Shit, I’ve been in this school district all my life, so I really don’t know any different, but it kinda grows on ya. Makes going out of state for college that much more appealing, though.”

Baylee stopped listening as JD continued to ramble on...about what exactly, he couldn’t be sure and he really didn’t care. He just wanted to get an official copy of his schedule from the Student Services office so he could get to class and have one less thing to worry about on a shitty day that was already going to Hell in a handbasket. Of course, he still had to go see Bec after school let out, too. It was the last thing Baylee wanted to do, besides suffer through the first day of classes.

“Mr. Dempsey, you should be in class. Being late on your first day is not the best way to start off the semester.”

Baylee refocused his attention to realize JD had opened the door to the Student Services office and stepped in ahead of him, approaching the middle-aged woman behind the counter who was staring at both of them with a glance of disapproval.

“Deloris!” JD greeted with a wide grin that had the woman rolling her eyes knowingly. “Man, did I ever miss you this summer! Did you get your hair done? You look great!”

“My hair is the same as it was the last day of your junior year,” Deloris answered him with a huff as she shuffled some papers on the counter. “And your flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. Dempsey. Why aren’t you in class?”

JD huffed and motioned back over his shoulder towards Baylee. “Because I’m doing a good service for my school community by showing my new friend here around. It’s his first day- Well, first time ever, actually, setting foot in the glorious halls of the infamous TCH. You should be thanking me, Deloris.”

Deloris’ gaze shifted to Baylee at that moment and she motioned him forward. “Welcome to Tates Creek, dear,” she said with a smile of sympathy when he stared back at her uncomfortably. “Did you receive a copy of your class schedule?” When Baylee shook his head ‘no’, Deloris smiled again. “That’s nothing to worry about. You came to the right place for that, although it would have done you much better to get here early so you could have actually made it to class on time. What’s your name?”

“Baylee,” he mumbled in response, clearing his throat when Deloris stared at him expectantly to continue. Sighing, Baylee pulled the piece of paper out of his pocket again and slid it across the counter to her. “This is the only thing I have that we received in the mail when my grandparents enrolled me. They were supposed to have the transcripts from my old school transferred here.”

“Hmmm…” Deloris grabbed the wrinkled paper to look at it. “Baylee Littrell… Wait right here.”

JD leaned casually against the edge of the counter as Deloris stepped away, offering a cheeky grin to the other office attendants who looked their way. “They love me here.”

“Yeah, okay,” Baylee snorted inwardly as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “That’s not exactly how I would describe it from an outsider’s point of view.”

“That’s okay,” JD dismissed him. “You’ll win them over soon enough. They pity the implants whenever we get one. You could probably even milk some special treatment out of it if you play your cards right. If ya gotta be stuck here, ya might as well have some fun, right?”

“Fun? This place?” Baylee looked around. “Trust me, this isn’t my idea of fun.”

“That’s generally the consensus unless you’re part of the nerd clique.” JD ran his hand through his messy hair before tapping his fingers impatiently against the counter top. He narrowed his eyes at Baylee, almost accusingly. “You’re not...are you?”

“Am I what?” Baylee questioned in return.

JD rolled his eyes. “One of  **_them_ ** . Y’know, the geek squad. The ones who wet their pants over the idea of getting less than an A grade on any of their assignments. The ones who won’t be getting laid any time soon because they’re in an oddly devoted and creepy relationship with their studies.”

Baylee actually chuckled this time and shook his head as he considered what JD had just said. He’d always excelled academically with a straight A record, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know how to have fun in the meantime. The good grades were Baylee’s fall back plan if he didn’t manage to score a full ride scholarship at his choice of college for his sports talent. Now, his academic achievements seemed to be the only thing working in his favor if he wanted to do anything with his future.

If he could keep himself out of trouble from now on...

“No,” he finally answered. “I’m not one of  **_them_ ** .”

Deloris returned to them with a file in hand. “Mr. Littrell, you have a very impressive academic record from your previous school,” she stated firmly. “We are honored to have you here as part of the TCH family for your senior year. Based on your sports record as well, I believe you will find our sports programs to be to your satisfaction.”

Baylee felt the scowl form on his face before he could think to stop it. “I don’t play sports.”

“No?” Deloris raised her brows at him in surprise. “Because your records in this file tell a completely different story.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t play sports anymore, okay?” Baylee snapped. “So can we drop it? I’m not interested.”

“Certainly…” Deloris nodded, her gaze still questioning the teen as she extended a sheet of paper across the counter to him. “This is your class schedule for this semester, reflective of the credits you are still needing to complete to be eligible for graduation in the Spring. Do you have any questions?”

Baylee snatched the paper from her hastily. “No.”

“Good. Now, you boys better get to class.” Deloris looked between Baylee and JD, leaving no room for argument. “I trust Mr. Dempsey here can point you in the right direction.”

Baylee left the Student Services office ahead of JD with a sudden headache that was steadily growing in intensity. That same nervous buzz from earlier returned to his stomach as he paused in the hallway to look down at his class schedule.

_ AP Biology _

_ World History _

_ AP English Composition _

_ A-Block Lunch Break _

_ Drama/Theater _

_ Choir _

_ AP Algebra _

_ ‘Fuck my life…’ _ Baylee thought sullenly, allowing his shoulders to sink under the weight of his thoughts.

JD appeared at his side a moment later and glanced at the class schedule. “AP Biology, English Comp.,  **_and_ ** Algebra?” he mused. “I thought you said you  **_weren’t_ ** an honorary member of the geek squad.”

“I-I’m not,” Baylee stuttered through his response, hating the way the heat lit his cheeks to signal the exact opposite. “I was in the running for a full ride scholarship to put me through college following graduation, all because of sports. But that’s a pile of shit that’s gone down the drain. So, now the only thing I have to rely on are the grades I get. Besides…” Baylee cocked a sharp brow, silently challenging JD to smart off about it again. “What does it matter if I’ve already gotten laid before?”

“Point well made, Implant,” JD conceded with a nod and a wicked grin. He clapped Baylee on the back. “AP Biology with J. Hemingson. I’ve heard he’s got a real stick up his ass. Anyway, room 203. Cross the lobby, take the east wing, and it’s towards the end of the hall. Have fun in nerd hour, dude.”

JD left Baylee standing there in the empty hallway, a bit dumbfounded and feeling just as lost as he was before. By the time he made it to his Biology class after a few wrong turns, attendance had already been taken and the teacher was deep in a lecture on cell structure. All sets of eyes turned on him the moment Baylee walked through the door and it also didn’t help that the teacher, Mr. Hemingson, called him out on his tardiness, much to the amusement of the other students.

The rest of the hour passed by excruciatingly slow that left Baylee unable to recall the majority of what the teacher had said. His next two classes weren’t much better either, so Baylee was more than a little relieved to step into the cafeteria for lunch. At least it would give him a little bit of a break to regroup his thoughts and hopefully prepare for the second half of the day. 

Except, Baylee realized that was a little easier said than done as the loud chatter of the students infiltrated the air around him while he stood there holding his lunch tray and couldn’t see a single seat open that would give him space and time to himself. God, Baylee felt like he was suffocating. Suddenly, doing community service didn’t seem so bad and he longed to be at the coffee house instead.

“Yo, Implant! Over here!”

Baylee barely heard the call of greeting over the roar of the chatter and turned in place, albeit somewhat unwillingly, to find JD standing at a round table a few yards away. His grin was just as wicked  **_and_ ** obnoxious as it had been during their first encounter, but he waved Baylee over enthusiastically enough that Baylee found his feet carrying him across the floor. When he reached the table, Baylee saw that JD wasn’t alone; rather, he was accompanied by two other students who were in stark contrast of each other, as could be seen by the blazing orange red hair on the skinnier, shorter one of the two and the dark raven hair of the other who was considerably taller and more on the pudgy side.

Baylee reluctantly lowered his tray to the table. “Uh...hey…”

“Take a seat,” JD insisted and sat down, himself, before Baylee could react otherwise. “I mean, unless you want to continue to stand there like a deer caught in headlights again. Is blending in even on your agenda?”

“Today is not my day,” Baylee muttered and sat down in the only vacant seat at the table.

“Implant’s new,” JD announced to his friends as if it weren’t already obvious by the way the teen’s shoulder sunk uncomfortably. Lifting a fry from his tray, he shoved it into his mouth and talked around it as he chewed. “His name is Baylee, but we’ll stick with Implant for now.”

_ ‘We?’ _ Baylee thought with a grimace. It seemed by JD’s enthusiasm that he was dead-set on the idea of establishing some level of friendship, but that was the furthest thing from Baylee’s mind. He wouldn’t even know who the Hell JD was if it wasn’t for the fact that some dumbass jock had knocked into him when he was trying to enter the school building. Baylee didn’t want friends at Tates Creek. He sure as Hell didn’t  **_need_ ** them.

“‘Sup, Imp?” the red-head addressed him with a nod.

JD jabbed his thumb towards his friend. “That’s Drew, but we call him Chucky.”

“Chucky?” Baylee tried to clarify in confusion.

“Can you see his hair?” JD blinked at him stupidly. “C’mon, Implant. Keep up. Take notes if you need to. Chucky here is practically a casting reject for the Child’s Play movies.”

Chucky snorted inwardly. “Ignore him. If you couldn’t tell already, he’s just an obnoxious asshole.”

JD’s grin was smug. “And yet, the two of you still keep me around.”

“It’s not like we have much choice,” the other teen at the table spoke up. “Nobody wants to see you moping and crying like the little bitch you are, Dempsey.” As JD’s cheeks lit with annoyance, he turned his attention to Baylee. “Name’s Micah, by the way. Just call me Mikey though. It’s nice to meet ya.”

“Likewise…” Baylee forced himself to mumble in response. He stared down at his lunch on the tray in front of him, any trace of an appetite absent. In fact, the smell of the burger and fries was making him nauseous. For a brief period of time, JD, Chucky, and Mikey talked amongst themselves as they ate, allowing Baylee to just sit there wallowing in his silence, whatever they were saying going in one ear and out the other along with the cacophony of socializing going on around them.

“Where ya from?” Chucky finally returned the attention at the table to Baylee when he was least expecting it. Sitting across from Baylee, he stared at him expectantly, waiting for an answer.

“Not from here,” Baylee answered with a shrug.

“Ha, Implant’s got a sense of humor,” JD chuckled and shoved the rest of his burger into his mouth.

Chucky ignored him, continuing, “If you’re not from here, then  **_why_ ** are you here?”

Baylee’s brows furled. He didn’t understand why they were so damn curious about it and he wasn’t exactly prepared for the interrogation either. “My dad didn’t give me a choice.”

“Daddy issues,” Mikey replied, nodding knowingly. “Sucks ass, man. Dads are dicks. Trust me, I know. I don’t even claim mine.”

“What about your mom?” Chucky pressed.

Baylee felt that familiar emptiness welling in him again and could feel the scowl beginning to form on his face. “She’s absent,” he grunted and pushed the tray away from him, despite the fact that his lunch remained untouched. His response left a sour taste in his mouth.

“So, your mom ran out on you and your dad made you move here.” Mikey leaned back in his seat, arms crossing casually over his chest. “Does your dad hate you or something?”

Baylee’s eyes snapped up to look at him, glare seething. He cursed himself internally for just how much he was letting an innocent comment actually affect him and while it seemed like all three of them were none the wiser, Baylee couldn’t ignore the way it had the fury flooding his body. “Or  **_something_ ** ,” he managed to spat through a clenched jaw before he pushed his chair back and stood, turning and storming away from the table.

“Baylee! Wait up!”

JD called out to him when he was barely a yard away from the table but Baylee ignored him and continued to make his way across the cafeteria, not exactly sure where he was going, but he knew he needed to get away from there to get his head on straight again before he had to go to his next class.

“Hey-” JD caught up with him a few moments later and reached out to grab Baylee’s shoulder in an effort to stop him. He retracted with a frown immediately when the teen glared at him. “Hey, listen...Chucky and Mikey didn’t mean nothing back there. They’re nosy assholes just like I am.”

Baylee kept his gaze fixated forward as they neared the doorway for the cafeteria. “Fine, whatever,” he dismissed. When he realized JD wasn’t retreating back to the table as they stepped out into the hallway, he stopped abruptly and whipped around to face him, catching him off guard. “What do you want?!”

JD’s face appeared bewildered. “Shit, dude, relax, would ya?” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “You just look like you could use a friend. Being the new guy at school has to suck, so I thought-”

“Well I  **_don’t_ ** ,” Baylee interrupted him. “Just leave me the Hell alone.”

“So...I’ll see you in drama after lunch?” JD called after him as Baylee stormed further down the hall. “Right, okay! Great talk!”

Baylee ignored him and turned sharply to slam out a side door, disappearing outside.

  
  


◾️◾️◾️◾️◾️

  
  


In Brian’s pocket were the keys to his new house that became official as of late that morning. The house was hardly new, but it was new to Brian and that’s all that mattered. He actually had felt an odd sense of relief when he received the call from Shannon, informing him that the paperwork had been finalized along with the releasing of the funds from his financial institution. Naturally, the bank had expressed concerns about the legitimacy of such an enormous transaction and had been hesitant to approve the lump sum all at once, but with prior proof of assets and paperwork from the realtor, the funds were released and Brian was informed he could pick up the keys.

Closing on the house had happened so quickly, it made Brian wonder if maybe Mr. Hardin had already made the decision to accept his offer prior to their meeting.

It was by far the single largest purchase Brian had made at one time and it had hardly made a dent in his bank account. He and Leighanne always had been cognizant of the importance of saving money throughout their marriage. Yes, they had been more than well off between their two careers, though it had never really mattered much to Brian when he thought about it, and it still didn’t. Brian didn’t care about money. Never had and wasn’t about to start to now. Maybe eventually he would find a simple job to occupy his time, but for now, he had enough to live comfortably for probably as long as he wanted to.

Not to mention he had also already begun to set Baylee up for getting off to a financially stable start by establishing a savings account for his son that was funded by the sale of the unwanted belongings from their old house and the money that came from Leighanne’s life insurance. Brian’s hope was that Baylee would be able to go off to college following high school and be able to focus on his studies without having to worry about his finances at the same time. They might not see eye to eye on life in general currently, but the last thing Brian wanted to do was leave Baylee unprepared, whether Baylee hated him or not.

It was a surreal feeling to step out the doors of Aspen realty with finalized paperwork in one hand and the keys to the house in the other. At the same time it was a stark reminder that Brian was truly alone...as if he needed anymore reminders. But oddly enough, for the first time in a really long time, Brian felt a spark of hope within that perhaps he was finally getting on the right path to a new beginning, the way his family expected him to and the way he  **_knew_ ** Leighanne would want him to, no matter how conflicted that made him feel.

Brian hadn’t wasted any time afterward driving the route from the realtor to Zephyr Hills, where Mr. Hardin was patiently anticipating his visit. It wasn’t a scheduled visit, that was to come the following day, but he found himself anxious to go see the elderly man whose family home Brian had just procured as his own, as if he needed to seek Mr. Hardin’s final blessing. Of course, Brian knew from the moment he stepped inside the nursing home that Mr. Hardin already knew his family home no longer belonged to him, but had now been passed on to a new family and he eagerly let Brian know he was at peace with it.

All he asked was that Brian keep him updated on how the renovations were going and to love the house the way his own family had for generations. Wordlessly, Mr. Hardin was giving him permission to establish a new legacy for the house, to make it his own, to start over with a clean slate. Mr. Hardin didn’t have to say it word for word for Brian to understand. And so, Brian had assured the elderly man he would tend to him whenever he needed in exchange for the gift he had received and promised to bring Mr. Hardin to the house regularly. Perhaps, Brian had suggested, he could even spend the holidays there with the Littrell family so he wouldn’t be alone like he was used to at the nursing home.

Mr. Hardin offered him a genuinely warm smile for the first time, all sarcasm and wit gone, and Brian returned it with one of his own.

They spent the better part of the early afternoon talking, Brian listening intently as Mr. Hardin relayed multiple stories of his adventures in the military, his life with Leah, and many other things that kept Brian so captivated, he had lost track of the time until his quickly becoming new found friend was fetched by an aid for medication and a late lunch. Brian was actually a little disappointed to have to part ways. Speaking with Mr. Hardin that afternoon was like a breath of fresh air, something that took his mind off everything else and allowed him to deflect elsewhere for a while. That’s part of the reason why Brian found himself so surprised when Mr. Hardin requested a hug instead of a proper handshake.

The old man appeared to be just as lonely as Brian felt.

Their bond felt natural.

Promising to return the following day, Brian left the nursing home with a little less weight carried on his shoulders. Now that the Hardin house was legally his, he dreaded the idea of all he needed to do, between moving all of his belongings out of his crappy little apartment and the renovations that needed completing, but it was  **_his_ ** and maybe it would turn out to be just the distraction Brian needed to put his life back together.

Lexington was buzzing that afternoon as Brian made his way around the city, assuring he got all of the utilities for the house put into his name. His mind drifted to Baylee on occasion and he wondered how his first day at Tates Creek High was going while fondly remembering the time he had spent at the school decades before. It was just troubling to know that Baylee had been so furious about the idea of having to attend the same high school his father had, as if he was ashamed or embarrassed of the association. Sometimes it made Brian question whether he had made the right decision to move Baylee to Kentucky in the first place.

Eventually, Brian brought the Land Cruiser to an unexpected stop outside Crawford’s Coffee Co. It was a bit late in the day to begin drinking coffee, but Brian expected a long night ahead of him between moving a few things from the apartment to the house to get the process started and he was already tired enough as it was. He supposed a few cups to get him through wouldn’t hurt too bad. And the place actually looked slow for business at that current point in time, so maybe for once Brian would actually be able to gain a moment of solitude. He made his way inside the building without affording it a second thought.

Barely a foot in through the doorway and Brian felt a solid object collide with him with a startled yelp of surprise and when he shifted his gaze downward, he saw the last of a collection of coloring pages flutter to the ground among a bunch of scattered crayons. In the midst of it all was a tiny child, dark honey blonde hair messily resting against her face while her wide brown eyes stared up at him. As taken aback as he was, Brian managed a tight smile and kneeled down to her level. “Looks like we made quite a mess, huh?”

“I...I'm sorry…” the child whispered, bottom lip puckering slightly while her eyes remained glued to his curiously.

“Nobody was hurt,” Brian assured her softly. “So, no damage done. But we should probably clean this mess up before someone trips over it.”

“Emma Sophia!” a shrill voice broke through the area. “I told you to stop running. I am so sorry, sir. Sometimes she- Brian?”

Brian looked up as he grasped a handful of crayons to see Ashley hurriedly approaching. “Hey, um, hi,” he mustered and proceeded to place the crayons into the plastic container the child had been holding. “Hold that thought for a moment, hm? We’re cleaning up the mess we just made.” Brian winked at the child. 

“You don’t have to do-” Ashley started to insist, only to groan quietly in embarrassment when it became obvious that Brian was blatantly disregarding her opinion of the matter. She watched as he helped Emma regather her art supplies and shook her head. “Emma Sophia, you have  **_got_ ** to be more careful. No more running inside. You're either gonna hurt yourself or one of the customers.”

Brian handed the last coloring page to Emma and gently patted her shoulder. “Like I said, no harm done.”

Emma giggled before hurrying off. Watching her daughter retreat towards the back of the coffee house, Ashley sighed under her breath. “I’m so sorry about that,” she murmured, frowning. “She has a lot of energy and I feel horrible she gets cooped up here all day every day. Sometimes she forgets to settle down.”

“I’m pretty sure children are supposed to have a never-ending supply of energy that’s the driving force for the death of our sanity.” Brian stood straight with a chuckle and dusted off the knees of his jeans. “Baylee was the same way when he was little. It used to drive his mother and I nuts.”

“He’s not here,” Ashley said, feeling the heat creep into her cheeks.

“Huh?” Brian focused on Ashley again, a little confused by her statement.

“Baylee, your son?” Ashley’s brows raised as she studied him. He seemed less socially awkward this time around, but there still seemed to be something a little off about him. “He’s not here today. Actually, I think he said he won’t be back again until this weekend, with school starting.”

“Right, I’m sorry. I knew what you meant,” Brian nodded in response. “First day of his senior year today.”

“Tates Creek?” Ashley questioned as she moved around back behind the counter.

“Yeah. He’s not exactly what you would call happy about going to his old man’s alma mater,” Brian explained with a chuckle while glancing over the drink menu on the wall. “But...it’s his last year. I’m just hoping he finds a way to enjoy the experience before graduation.”

“He mentioned something about missing his old school and all of his friends,” Ashley told him, shrugging. “I imagine it would be difficult having to attend a new school for senior year. You know, Baylee’s opened up a bit these past couple weeks. Still has an attitude that isn’t to be reckoned with, but he’s got a surprisingly good sense of humor. He’s fitting in well around here.” She paused momentarily to take a breath, realizing she had gone off on a tangent. “What are you in the mood for?”

Brian was staring at her. He knew he was unintentionally staring as soon as the silence settled between them just as much as he knew Ashley had taken notice and it made him cringe internally. For a moment, Brian thought he could hear Nick laughing at him. Blinking out of his stupor, Brian shook his head. “The strongest thing you’ve got.”

“Mid-afternoon pick me up?” Ashley tapped the order into the system.

“More like I have a really long day ahead of me and I’m hoping this will help to carry me through it.” Brian pulled his wallet out of his back pocket as he spoke. “Can I buy you a cup as well?”

Ashley paused in turning from the counter to get started on Brian’s drink. “I’m sorry?”

This time Brian was fairly certain he could hear Nick laughing at how ridiculous he sounded. “I’m offering to buy you a cup of coffee,” he explained as he lifted a hand to awkwardly rub at the back of his head. “You look like you could use a pick me up as well.”

“It’s been one of  **_those_ ** days,” Ashley admitted with a soft laugh. “Thank you, but I’m going to have to respectfully decline the offer. Besides, you do realize I get all the drinks I want here for free? One of the perks of owning the place.”

_ “You are such an idiot,” _ Nick chastised Brian in his head.

Pursing his lips tightly together as he willed his brother’s voice into silence, Brian mustered as much of a sheepish smile as he could. “I mean no disrespect, but I have to insist. I wouldn’t mind the company for a bit, to be honest. I mean, unless you are busy right now, of course.”

Ashley contemplated him for a brief moment, unable to ignore the humor that was meant to shine through his statement. “Can’t you see that I am horribly busy right now?”

Brian looked around them. “Yes, I can see that by the line stretching out the door behind me that’s a mile long,” he mused.

“Well, since we both very clearly hold no regard for making the customers wait…” Ashley winked and turned from Brian to begin preparing their drinks. A few minutes later, she turned back to him, extending a steaming mug in his direction. “Fair warning, you may not sleep for a day or two after drinking that.”

“Does it have the potential to kill me?” Brian joked.

“In theory,” Ashley replied with a simple shrug. She motioned with her head. “C’mon, my feet are killing me.”

Brian held up his wallet. “Aren’t you gonna let me pay first?”

Ashley had to fight her amusement. “Did you totally miss the fact that I just got done saying not too long ago that I can have all of the drinks here I want for free?”

“Okay,” Brian said as he set the mug onto the counter. He pulled a twenty dollar bill out of his pocket and dropped it into the tip jar before smirking in Ashley’s direction. “Now we’re even.”

“I can see where Baylee gets his stubborn trait from,” Ashley huffed, cheeks reddening again.

Brian followed her over to one of the couches and sat on the opposite end. “I haven’t the slightest clue what you could possibly be talking about,” he said rather matter of factly, raising the rim of the mug to his lips for a careful sip. The overpowering coffee flavor exploded in his mouth as the heat burned his tongue. “Damn!”

Ashley drew a leg up onto the couch, grinning cheekily. “I call it the Vin Diesel, because it’s bad ass and strong and if you can’t handle it, it will knock you on your ass.”

“It’s...good,” Brian winced before chancing another sip. “Thank you. I’m sure it will suffice.”

“Don’t mention it.”

The silence began to settle once again  as they sat there. Ashley’s attention seemed to drift while she nursed her drink and whether it was from nerves or being uncomfortable, Brian couldn’t be certain, but that made him realize he was also staring at her once again and God, if he didn’t feel guilty for it. As if staring at another woman and being unable to deny that she was beautiful was a direct insult to his late wife. Nick didn’t have to tell Brian he was an idiot; he already knew he was.

Brian cleared his throat, suddenly feeling out of place. “Is this weird?”

Ashley slowly drew her eyes back to him. “Is it weird that the father of my little protege criminal just randomly shows up unannounced and insists on a sit down coffee date?” She smirked at him. “Oh no, not weird at all.”

“Oh, so, this is a date?” Brian questioned with a cheeky grin before he realized the words were coming out of his mouth.

Ashley’s cheeks immediately reddened with embarrassment. “Listen here, Mr. Literal-”

“Actually, It’s  **_Littrell_ ** .” Brian continued to grin as he sipped more of his drink.

“And now I see where Baylee gets his sense of humor from, too,” Ashley mumbled to herself. She shifted in the corner of the couch to get more comfortable. “If that’s how you ask a girl out on a date, it’s no wonder you’re single.” Instantly realizing the harshness of her statement when Brian looked away from her, Ashley sat up a little straighter. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Brian had to fight himself hard to keep the frown from surfacing on his face. “It’s okay.”

“Baylee’s mentioned your late wife a couple of times.” Ashley stared down at her drink as she spoke. “I get the sense that he doesn’t like to talk about her, though.”

“It’s, uh…” Brian drawled in contemplation. “It’s a tough subject for him.”

“I imagine it would be,” Ashley agreed. “I’m very sorry for yours and Baylee’s loss.”

“Life hasn’t exactly been kind to us,” Brian told her. “It’s been even worse for Baylee. And on top of losing his mother, I uprooted him from the only home he ever knew and made him move here. Not exactly father of the year.”

“He said it was an accident?” When their eyes met again, Ashley felt a pang of sickness twisting in her stomach from the sadness she saw reflecting in Brian’s gaze. “I’m sorry...it’s really none of my business.”

Brian shook his head. “It’s an accident Baylee blames himself for because he was there when it happened,” he explained. He paused momentarily, his thoughts getting the best of him. “...It was a hit and run. Bay was driving, so...he thinks it’s his fault.”

“That’s a lot of weight to carry…” Ashley whispered.

“Yes.” Brian nodded to himself. “He almost didn’t survive the accident either. It’s a miracle that he did.”

“I can’t even imagine what the two of you have gone through,” Ashley told him with a faint sympathetic smile.

Brian admired the way Ashley smiled for a moment, a little caught off guard by the way it warmed him on the inside. “Yes, well, it’s not me that matters in any of this,” he said with a frown and the only thing he could do was look away as the pang of guilt ate away at him. “My concern is making sure my son gets through this. That’s all I care about.”

“That’s...admirable, but…” Ashley studied him carefully. “You can’t neglect yourself in the meantime. You lost just as much as-” The door to the coffee house opened before Ashley could finish her statement and she watched in dismay as a small group of people entered, chatting amongst themselves as they approached the counter to study the drink menu. Ashley set her drink down and stood from the couch. “I’m sorry, I’ll be right back.”

Hurrying away from the couch and conversation, Ashley made her way up to the small group to assist them. It was nearing fifteen minutes later before the last of them walked out the door and when she looked back over towards the couch, Ashley noticed with dismay that Brian was gone. She couldn’t even recall the bell above the door ringing while she had been busy, but it appeared that Brian had decided for the both of them that their conversation was over. Sighing, Ashley returned to the couch to gather both her drink and Brian’s, finding the latter had been barely touched.

There was a twenty dollar bill sitting next to it.

“Seriously…” Ashley muttered to herself with a shake of her head.

“...So? When’s the date?”

Scowling, Ashley turned to find Rachel standing behind her with a knowing grin. “What are you even talking about?”

Rachel rolled her eyes when Ashley brushed past her in annoyance. She followed her. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“All  **_I_ ** know is Baylee’s father is an infuriating man who over-tips.” Ashley held up the twenty dollar bill before hastily shoving it into the tip jar and storming off to the back of the coffee house without another word. 


End file.
